


Breathing in Sequence

by LilyK



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, BDSM, Drama, Humor, M/M, Roleplay, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 16:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 97,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14524665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: Jim's presence looms large in Blair's life as they learn to live and work together. He's Blair's best friend, roommate and partner... and he's also the center of Blair's dream world.





	1. Chapters 1 thru 21

**Author's Note:**

> This is an older zine fic published approx. 2009 and stored at Artifact Storage Room 3. That archive is closing and it doesn't look like my fic is being imported as of this date (May, 2018). I have pasted the text here, however, be aware that the pasting has stripped the formatting. Nothing I do changes that. Since the fic is over 97,000 words I haven't had time to manually correct it. I apologize for this. 
> 
> By way of explanation, each chapter has a dream sequence which is no longer italicized so the reader is aware of it. That's 65 chapters, one for each episode. So for now I'm storing the fic here since I don't know what will happen to ASR3 and hope to someday reformat it. No promises.
> 
> Posted in three parts of approx. 21 chapters each.

Chapter One

The erotic images flitted away as Blair woke with a shudder, the vestiges of a moan still on his lips. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his palm, wetting the wool of the fingerless gloves he wore even while he slept. Placing his hand back under the blankets, he snuggled down into the flannel sheets. His breath made a cloud of condensation over his head while he struggled to settle his breathing, which was still ragged from the contents of the dream that had startled him awake. Blair thought about the dream for a moment, and after a bit of consideration, his surprise at the subject matter slowly dissolved. It wasn't such a bad dream after all, he mused. Considering what an awful day yesterday had been, he was astonished that he hadn't had a full-fledged nightmare. This dream was -- unusual, but nonetheless rather pleasant. He let out a yawn and stretched, his mind going over yesterday's events.

He'd been helping the cop he'd just met on a high-profile bombing case. Jim Ellison had recently discovered that he was blessed (or cursed, as Ellison obviously felt) with heightened senses. The fact that Blair's research dealt with people having hyperactive senses, and that he'd found the man was no accident. He'd been searching for somebody like Jim for a long time now. He'd convinced himself that he hadn't committed a crime when he had asked his friend, who worked as a nurse at Cascade Memorial, to fax him any files that raised the flag regarding patients complaining about a myriad of symptoms; symptoms that he attributed not to mental problems or even conventional medical ones, but to having heightened senses, the mark of a Sentinel.

Desperate after his years of searching, Blair had finally taken the risk and sweet-talked his friend into helping. The fact that he'd gotten hold of somebody's personal medical file under somewhat, ah, sneaky circumstances did give him a momentary pause, but even the risk had been worth it now that he'd found Jim. Grinning, he thought about his partner in crime, Joanie, before his smile faded.

What Blair hadn't planned on, was getting dragged into a dangerous case involving a mad bomber. He hadn't planned on being kidnapped, or having a gun shoved in his face, or needing to wrestle an armed woman known as The Switchman to the floor to save his own life, not to mention the lives of numerous other people. And he certainly hadn't planned on having to punch her out to take her down. Furthermore, he definitely had not considered that he would be blown up on a tourist bus on a bridge a hundred feet above the water. Maybe he'd better rethink his relationship with Ellison. And that dream he'd awoken from minutes ago didn't help assuage him one little bit.

"Damn, but it's cold this morning," Blair groused, glancing around the huge warehouse. The rent was cheap because the place lacked central heating and air conditioning, but it had plenty of fresh air from the outside world. It seeped through every crack and crevice in the building's un-insulated walls and settled right into Blair's body each and every day. The heavy-duty portable heating unit that he used in the main area did little to dispel the cold.

"Damn it anyway, Blair. If you want to live without central heat, you need to move to Florida."

With a grimace, he tossed back the covers and scurried toward the bathroom. As he shut the door and fumbled for the knob to turn on the small space heater, he thought back on the reason he'd been awakened so abruptly. Images of a long-legged, steely-blue-eyed, very handsome, extremely grouchy detective traipsed across his subconscious. Jim Ellison was perfection on two feet to Blair. He was strong, smart, courageous and -- a damned Sentinel. Grinning, Blair forced his rapidly cooling fingers to twist the knob to high. He rose, scratching his belly through four layers of clothing. Maybe he should get the dream down on paper before it evaporated into thin air. This one was a good addition to his memoirs, he figured. And this was also one dream that he definitely wanted to remember.

Standing close to the heater, Blair shivered as he waited, until the warmth rising from the metal coils started to take the worst of the bite from the frigid air. Yanking off the gloves, he pulled down the waistband of the two pairs of sweats he wore and standing in front of the john, let out a sigh of relief as he emptied his bladder. Pants pulled back up, he washed his face and hands before he yanked off the furry hat that covered his head. A critical examination showed that his hair definitely needed washing today, but there was no way he was showering until the air in the bathroom reached at least sixty degrees. "Don't want to freeze your dick off, buddy-boy." He snorted in amusement at the comment and slipped out of the door, keeping in as much of the heat as he could.

"Okay. Okay. Coffee first; then notes." Even though his feet were encased in thick wool hunting socks, he still shivered, drawing the flannel jacket closer around his body. The second he started across the space separating the bathroom from the kitchen area, he heard a loud screech. "Quiet, Larry," he muttered. "I'll get you fed in a few."

In the kitchen area, he set the kettle on one of the two burners on the portable hot plate and pulled Larry's breakfast from the fridge. The light inside the small unit didn't work, and he had to search for bread and butter for toast. He dropped the breakfast food onto the table and approached Larry's enclosure.

"I need to get a better place," he said with a sigh while he moved aside the blanket that covered the cage. "Larry," he continued, opening the ape's cage door, "I hate to say this, but as soon as my project's done, I'm afraid I'm going to have to find you another home." He filled Larry's dish with his food and changed out the old water for fresh. "I love you, buddy, but living in the slums just isn't for me."

Larry's big brown eyes searched his face, looking to Blair as if he was asking a very important question. Blair scratched Larry's head. "Don't you worry your little head about it one bit. I promise to find you a good home. No way would I let anybody experiment on you, my friend. Trust me on this."

Larry's little screech told Blair that Larry understood, or at least Blair thought so. "Hell, maybe he's just hungry," he decided, watching the animal cruise though the pile of cantaloupe, bananas, and apples, along with a cup of the monkey chow he'd bought on the Internet. But still, he would keep his promise. Once his project was done, Larry would be living a better life as somebody's treasured companion, he vowed.

When the kettle whistled, Blair passed on the coffee and instead, dug out a packet of the special cocoa mix that Naomi had sent him in his latest surprise box. With a grin, he made a huge mug of cocoa, smiling as he remembered his childhood days with his mother. And he sent up a silent thanks to her also, because it was her insistence that he learn and practice his meditation techniques that he still had the ability to sink into a trance of sorts and sometimes recall his dreams with amazing clarity. As he readied himself to revisit the dream, he found he was looking forward to the little trip.

\-------------------

A lot of what happened in his dream had happened in real life, Blair knew, as it unfolded before his eyes. He relived his day mostly as it had occurred, but it was after he'd told Jim that he wasn't cutting his hair that things turned weird. Instead of what really happened -- he went home, ate a bowl of cereal and then went to bed -- things got really -- strange...

They arrived back at the station together where he hung out while Jim located his vehicle. Jim didn't say anything about him tagging along, but acted like he expected him to be at his side. Once Jim had gotten the truck out of impound, he didn't drive him straight home, but asked if he wanted to grab a bite to eat. Ravenous, he readily agreed, knowing that they hadn't stopped for a moment on their mad race through Cascade looking for the identity of the bomber. It was well past midnight so Jim took him to an all-night diner. He had a mushroom and cheese omelet, and Jim had a burger with the works. After they ate like starving men, Jim offered him a spare bed for the night. He tried to protest, but his wide yawns must have convinced Jim that his plan was the best one. Without much discussion, Jim drove them to his place.

He didn't have the energy to put up a fuss, so he let Jim take the lead. He was led up three flights of stairs and through a darkened apartment. Jim opened a door and after flipping on the light, he was ushered inside. He glanced around the small bathroom, grateful that Jim had somehow known he needed to use it. By the time he'd slapped some water on his face, Jim was quietly knocking on the door. He opened it and let Jim direct him across the hall into what Jim called 'the spare room'. The bed was ready with clean sheets and the blankets turned down. After tiredly muttering his thanks, he flopped onto the mattress. He thought he heard Jim chuckle again, but he was so tired, he was out before Jim could say, "Take your shoes off, Sandburg." When he woke a few hours later, blinking blindly into the dark, he knew that Jim had not only taken off his shoes and jeans, but he'd covered him up with a nice, warm quilt. With a contented sigh, he was snuggled down into the warmth of the blankets, enjoying the central heat when he heard a floorboard creak, and his eyes flew open.

"Jim?" he called out, sitting up. He listened carefully, hearing the sound of sock-clad footsteps move toward the door of the room, and with the kitchen's night light, he could see Jim's outline in the doorway.

"Sorry, Sandburg. I didn't mean to wake you."

He wrapped his arms around his legs. "It's okay. Are you all right?"

Jim moved into the room and hovered a few feet away from his bed. "Yeah. Fine."

He let out a small chuckle at the obvious tone of Jim's voice. "Okay. If you say so." He knew that Jim was far from all right, but he didn't know what he should do about it. After all, they'd just met, and he got the distinct feeling that Jim wasn't too crazy about him so far. Maybe being thrown up against the wall in his office had something to do with that idea. He was quiet for a minute before he said, "Thanks."

"For what?" Jim asked, moving closer.

He slid over as far as he could on the futon. Jim apparently took his motion as an invitation, because he sat down on the edge of the bed and fiddled with the blanket. There was enough light filtering in from the hallway that he could see the expression on Jim's face. He looked -- scared, but he clearly was trying to hide his emotions. He felt a stab of sympathy for the newly-on-line Sentinel and responded softly, "For letting me study you. For trusting me."

"Sure, Chief." They sat silently for a moment before Jim finally said, "I've had trouble sleeping ever since... The senses thing."

He understood. With his senses now fully on line, Jim was overwhelmed. He hoped he could do something to help the anxious man. "Why don't you...?" He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and even though he knew exactly what he wanted to say, he couldn't quite spit out the words.

"Why don't I what?" Jim asked, his voice softening.

"Lie down," he finally whispered.

Jim looked surprised for a moment before a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "If you're sure."

He smiled in return. Jim now sounded almost -- relieved. As if Jim was expecting some sort of rejection, and his offer was a pleasant surprise. With a hand on Jim's arm, he answered, "I'm sure." He laid back against one of the pillows and pushed the second pillow toward Jim, who rose, lifted the blankets and slipped in. "I'm... happy you're here," he said quietly while Jim got comfortable.

Jim chuckled and turned so that they were face to face. They lay very still, just looking at each other for a long while until Jim's hand brushed down his cheek, where he latched onto the strong fingers and kissed the palm.

Softly, Jim said, "You make me feel -- better."

"Good. I'm glad."

"I want to -- kiss you."

"Oh!" he said breathlessly. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

Jim moved closer and when he released the hand, Jim slipped it under his arm and splaying it across his back, encouraged him to move closer. Jim's lips pressed against his, and with a contented sigh, he melted against the warm body of his bedmate. The kisses were wonderful; soft, but firm. They were perfect. They were exciting, and arousing, and inviting. Without words, the kisses beckoned his heart, and he answered Jim's call with one of his own. Struggling for breath, he pulled back a fraction and said, "Make love to me."

It was sweet and tender. He felt each loving touch, each gentle caress of Jim's fingers and lips. He felt loved and desired...

Coming out of his meditative state, Blair let out a sigh of regret as he dug his fingers into his eyes, wiping away the hint of wetness there. "Fuck," he whispered. "I wish-" The jangling of the phone dragged him back to reality, and with a deep, calming huff of breath, he returned to his waking life. The fragments of the dream evaporated as he made plans to meet Jim later on that day.

\-------------------------------

Chapter Two

It happened again. Blair woke, confused and startled. Another dream? What was wrong with him? Was he falling apart so soon after hooking up with Jim? Did the idea of shadowing a cop frighten him that much? He considered this thought for a while before he admitted to himself that Jim being a cop didn't scare him at all. In fact, he found it exciting. Maybe he really was going nuts.

Oh, well. Two dreams didn't a mental case make, he figured sarcastically. Still, he couldn't help but examine why he was having these kinds of dreams about his new friend in the first place. Jim hadn't given him any hints that he was the least bit interested in him in the physical sense at all. As far as Blair could tell, Jim didn't think of him as anything but someone to help him learn to control his senses. He had no idea if his new partner was gay or straight, and it certainly wasn't his business to ask. Yet yesterday had turned out to be another harrowing day in the life of Jim Ellison, and by extension, in the life of Blair Sandburg. Something must be dredging up these feelings. And he wanted to know why.

With a snort, Blair rolled over and buried his head under the pillow. He closed his eyes and saw Jim, naked and panting, telling Blair to take him harder, to push deeper. Blair groaned. What the fuck was wrong with him? He knew exactly what had happened when the Sunrise Patriots put the entire police building under siege.

When the helicopter made it back to the roof of the police building, and after Jim's ex-wife grudgingly removed the tape from his wrists, he approached Jim with a mixture of fright and excitement. Questioning his friend, he discovered that Jim had told his boss about his heightened senses. He'd been surprised, and then begged Jim to tell him that being taken hostage and kidnapped - again! - by a bunch of psychotic para-military types wasn't going to be his usual day if he palled up with the detective. Jim patted his cheeks and walked away, laughing!

He pretty much freaked out after Jim's wordless admission that this was very much a daily occurrence. No way was he going to keep putting his life in danger. Being around Ellison was damned dangerous, and he'd hightailed it home, not even bothering to say good-bye to Jim. He needed to rethink his involvement with Jim and his study of Sentinels, or at least this particular Sentinel, before he ended up dead.

But his mind had other ideas. His subconscious liked Jim, apparently, and in this dream, things had definitely been different...

He followed Jim to the locker room where he questioned his friend about how he'd used his senses to take down the militia group. While Jim showered, he took notes and again, once they headed out, they ended up at a local bar, eating greasy hamburgers, drinking beer, and playing pool, of all things.

When they finally decided to part ways and head toward their respective homes he discovered his car had a flat tire, and he didn't have a spare. After listening to Jim bitch and moan over his poor automotive habits, his grouchy friend finally pushed him into his truck and drove him to the warehouse. But instead of dropping him off, Jim accepted his invitation to come in for coffee. They had a fine time, talking and drinking coffee for several hours. This time, it was Jim who was too tired to drive home, and he crawled onto the old sofa, where he collapsed and was snoring softly in a few minutes.

He pulled the afghan from the sofa's back and covered his friend. He moved quietly, getting ready for bed, but before he knew what he was doing, he found himself standing beside the couch, watching Jim sleep. Reaching out to caress the short-cropped hair, he smiled as the bristly cut tickled his palm. Jim snorted, waking. Hastily apologizing for disturbing Jim, he started to retreat.

"Blair," Jim called.

"Yeah?" he said, turning. He felt himself blush. When Jim's eyes widened, he knew Jim somehow sensed his trepidation and embarrassment. Damn, but he had to remember the guy was a Sentinel!

"I want you."

His mouth fell open, and he slowly nodded. "Oh, God. Yes. I want you too."

Jim turned to his back and pulled the blanket away. "Come here."

He moved slowly, his eyes raking the firm body he knew lay hidden by flannel and denim. He ached to remove the clothes that covered the flesh and touch the warm skin underneath. He watched Jim's face intently, looking for signs of acceptance... or rejection.

"Go ahead," Jim offered.

Still astonished at Jim's ability to read his desires so easily, he nodded. With trembling fingers, he unbuttoned the plaid flannel and pushed the muscle t-shirt up, ghosting his hands over the sculpted abs. When his fingers brushed over the pinkish-brown nubs, Jim sucked in a sharp breath and gritted his teeth while his eyes closed and his nostrils flared.

He fell to his knees beside the sofa and leaning forward, flicked out his tongue, tasting the nipple closest to him.

"Blair!"

"Let me love you."

Eyes still closed, Jim nodded. "Yes."

He slowly undressed his lover then himself. Leaving Jim's side only for a moment, he returned quickly, lube in hand. Jim's eyes flew open when he squirted the gel into his hand. He saw Jim's nostrils flare as he smelled the lubricant, and Jim's eyes widened as he watched his cock being liberally coated.

"How do you -- want me?" Jim asked huskily.

"On your knees. Lean forward a bit with your hands on the back of the sofa. Please."

Nodding, Jim moved gracefully, leaning forward and crossing his arms on the sofa back before resting his chin on his elbows.

Carefully, he climbed onto the sofa and positioned the head of his cock against his lover's entrance. Sweeping his hands along the wonderful body in front of him, he spoke encouraging words about what they were doing and made small sounds of appreciation at Jim's physical beauty. When his lover was relaxed and ready, he slipped into the hot cavern of Jim's body, and slowly thrust his hips, savoring the feelings rushing through him. One hand constantly stroked Jim's skin while the other hand caressed his lover's cock. His own shaft moved in slow, deep thrusts, pleasuring his lover. Only when Jim cried out and came in a shuddering rush, did he allow himself to take his own release...

"Wow," Blair said to Larry. "That was very strange. Weird, but -- fun. Jim and me. Can you imagine?" he added, letting out a wry chuckle. "As if... So what do you want to watch today? I taped you Season Three of NYPD Blue."

\-----------------------------

Chapter Three

As he showered, Blair smiled. He fisted his dick, letting images of Jim Ellison flit across his subconscious. No sense fighting it, he figured, since his mind had certainly decided that the dreams about Jim were going to continue. The third one didn't even raise an eyebrow, he realized, stroking his flesh. Leaning forward with one hand on the tiled wall, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his cock. He pictured Jim's hand on it, exactly like it had been in the latest dream...

He stood before Jim, entranced as Jim described how he'd been feeling in the house of mirrors when he killed Tommy Juno. He ignored the thought about the man's death and concentrated on Jim's words. So far, during their relationship, his new friend had been fairly close-mouthed about his abilities. He thought Jim's description of standing outside himself while looking at his own detached body, and being able to make himself move and see and hear, but that it wasn't him; it was someone else, was pretty much bullshit. But there was no way he was going to contradict the excited Sentinel. When Sanchez approached Jim, he did the only thing he could do at the time: he excused himself with some of his own bullshit about knowing when to bow out. And Jim hadn't even twitched when he called himself Jim's faithful companion.

So he skedaddled, only to lurk in Jim's truck that one of the other detectives had driven to the scene for Jim. After all, they'd come in that stupid van in which they'd transported the dead twin's body, and it had been hauled off by the forensics guys anyway. Telling himself that he didn't want to spring for cab fare back to his car at the station house, he waited in the truck, reading an old paperback he'd found in the glove compartment.

When the driver's door was yanked open, Jim groused, "Sandburg, what are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "Hitching a ride." Jim didn't question him further, but climbed in. "It was great the way you took care of the killers, Jim. You're a good cop." Jim grunted in response, making him smile. The guy definitely had issues about emotions and feelings, and even accepting praise graciously. They'd have to work on those, he realized. Shelving the thought for now, he asked, "Where's Ms. Sanchez? You guys meeting up later on?"

Jim cranked the engine. "Nah. We decided to just be friends."

With a chuckle, he shook his head. "Yeah, right."

Jim joined in, letting out a bark of laughter of his own. "Stupid, huh? It was just a way to blow her off."

Leaning forward, he stared across the space at his partner. "Really? Why's that? She's a nice looking woman; smart, successful. I'd think she would be somebody you'd be interested in."

Jim looked over his shoulder before pulling out onto the street. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel before he nodded. "You're right about Sanchez, except..."

He was shocked when Jim glanced his way, giving him the most lecherous grin he'd ever seen. "Except?" he squeaked, irritated at the way his voice broke.

"Except I have somebody else I'd rather blow off."

Snorting deeply, he guffawed. "That's crude."

"But effective," Jim responded before giving him a questioning glance. "Interested?"

He paused for a half a second before a wide grin crossed his face. "Oh, yeah. Definitely interested."

"Good. My place or yours?"

"Mine. It's closer."

"In a hurry?"

"Damn straight," he blurted out.

"Not from this end," Jim quipped, turning toward his warehouse...

Blair bit his lower lip as he came against the shower wall, images of Jim on his knees with that inviting mouth latched onto his cock was indelibly burned into his brain. It seemed so real! His flesh in Jim's mouth, moving in and out. He could see the saliva making his skin wet, and he could feel the wonderful ache that throbbed in his groin just before he orgasmed into his lover's mouth. Drawing blood on his lip, he whispered sorrowfully, "God, Jim. What the hell have you done to me?"

\---------------------------------

Chapter Four

The drive home... Home! Blair thought. He had a home! With central heat and air conditioning, and a bathroom that hadn't been used by countless workmen through the years, and a kitchen with a real stove. A fridge also, albeit old, but it kept his beer cold, without freezing it into a solid lump. He was in heaven. There were sofas and chairs and a balcony. And his own room. It had a clean futon, plenty of shelves for his books and although it didn't have a door, he had his own curtain!

Giggling aloud, Blair tried to tamp down his happiness when Jim cast him a disgusted glance as he drove them toward the loft.

"I mean it, Sandburg!" he groused. "If you can't get the ape out of my place, I swear I'll shoot it myself!"

"Jim, man, calm down. Larry is as tame as -- you are." That earned him a glare from his irritated partner. He grinned sheepishly.

When they'd arrived back at the loft, all he had to do was call Larry's name from the open door and the little ape rushed into his arms, chattering nervously and plucking at his shirt.

"See?" Blair said, cradling the little critter. "I've already made arrangements. He's been adopted by a really nice family. All I have to do is give them a call, and they'll come to get him."

"Then do it," Jim said firmly, walking past Blair without another glance.

Blair sighed and made the call. The Fosters came within the hour, giving him time to get Larry and his stuff ready. He cleaned the cage and folded it up; got all the food he'd bought in the last few days since he'd moved in for his week with Jim, into a shopping bag and added Larry's favorite toys and his blanket. He also tucked in the newly acquired permit that allowed the ape to be kept in a non-residential area. Thankfully, the Fosters lived about ten miles out of town so that wouldn't be an issue.

Larry, being the gregarious creature he was, went with the Fosters without a backward glance at Blair. He waved goodbye to the ape, and for a moment, felt a stab of loss, but one look around his new, temporary home and his heart lifted. With a smile, he started to clean up the mess left in Larry's wake, and as a way of thanking Jim for his patience, he dusted the furniture and mopped the floors as he went. They had a quiet dinner before Blair retired to his room, once again thanking Jim for everything he'd done. After reading for a while, he drifted to sleep with the lamp at his bedside still burning...

The click of the lamp registered to his sleeping brain, making him mumble in protest. When his glasses were removed and the book lifted from his stomach, his eyes drifted open.

"Jim, man. Sorry. Fell asleep."

"It's okay, Chief." Jim stood looking down at him for a minute before he said, "You want coffee?"

He rubbed his eyes. Jim seemed to want -- something, so he nodded, rising from the bed. He followed Jim out into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, watching the handsome man prepare a fresh pot.

"I like it here," he said softly. "It's quiet, and the view is great. It's warm too."

"Warm?" Jim said, lifting an eyebrow. "Yeah, that I get. That place of yours was damned drafty."

Nodding, he retrieved sugar and creamer from the cupboard and set them on the counter. "I won't forget the debt I owe you. You helped me a lot this past week. I wouldn't have been able to turn in my paper if it weren't for you."

"No problem," Jim said, pouring coffee into mugs.

"I'll find a place ASAP."

Jim shrugged. "No rush."

"Unless..."

He watched as Jim stirred in a bit of creamer and passed on the sugar. Mug in hand, Jim wandered into the living room and sprawled on the sofa. Watching his friend carefully, he fixed his own cup and followed. He admired the long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His eyes drank in the profile of the handsome face and smooth features. When Jim was relaxed, those tiny lines on his forehead disappeared.

"What?" Jim snapped, eyeing Blair.

"Sorry. I was just -- looking."

"Like what you see?" Jim teased.

"Hell, yes," he blurted out before he could stop himself. He clamped his teeth together so hard that they snapped loudly in the quiet room.

Jim's gaze found his and held it for a moment before the intense clear blue eyes raked eyes down his body. Startled at the blatant examination, he held his breath. It was so damned sensual that he felt his groin tighten. He cleared his throat and said, "Unless you could use a few hundred extra bucks a month."

Jim blinked. "What?"  
"Rent, Jim. For the room."

Without missing a beat, Jim answered, "Deal." Then he set both of their cups on the coffee table, and leaned over him, fusing their mouths together.

They kissed slowly for a long while before the kisses turned frantic. Each man's hands scrambled on their clothing, and soon they lay panting and naked on the sofa. Jim yanked his mouth away and rose to his hands and knees. He watched with curiosity while Jim positioned his body so that they were in the position to pleasure each other. Jim hovered over his cock before leaning down and drawing it into his mouth, He let out a cry of pleasure before wrapping his arm around Jim's hips and using his free hand, tugged gently until Jim lowered himself closer. He opened his mouth and tongued the weeping head.

What started as a give-and-take soon wordlessly lapsed into a contest of who could make the other come first. Using his limited knowledge of Jim's heightened senses, he was pleased when Jim couldn't help but stop his own movements to concentrate on what was being done to him. Jim's head dropped as he breathed harshly and minutely thrust his hips. He opened his mouth widely and let Jim fuck his face while keeping his hands on Jim's waist to control the motions. When Jim shuddered, he knew he'd won the contest. Jim came in a hot rush, shooting semen down his throat. He suckled for a few more moments before the limp cock was finally released. Chuckling with satisfaction and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, he let out a yelp when Jim recovered quickly and returned to his duties. Fisting the lower half of his cock and using that deadly tongue on the head, Jim had him spurting come in a matter of seconds.

Jim climbed off the sofa to slip an arm under his legs. Sliding onto the sofa, Jim placed his feet into his lap. As Jim's fingers explored his ticklish feet, they found the sensitive area under his toes. He started to giggle, then laughed aloud. When their eyes met, they both started to laugh. Soon the laughter was so intense that both had tears leaking from their eyes...

"Breakfast, Sandburg!"

Blair's eyes opened widely. He stared at his bedroom ceiling for a moment before he sat up quickly and scrubbed his hands down his face. Running a hand through tangled hair, he sucked in a cleansing breath before he let it out in a rush. "I am so fucked," he mumbled.

"And if you don't get a move on, you'll be more than fucked!" Jim called from the kitchen. "And I won't be home for dinner. I have a date with Gwen tonight!"

Blair let out a theatrical groan. One of these days, he'd remember that when he talked out loud to himself, his friend, the Sentinel, could more than likely hear him. Life just wasn't fair, but what else could he do but laugh at the irony of it all and rise to face the day?

\--------------------------

Chapter Five

Blair was pissed. For weeks now, he'd awoken with the taste of Jim in his brain. But in real life, Jim was -- unattainable. Sure, the man was turning into a good friend, but as far as their private lives went, Jim was just that and only that -- a good friend. And Jim had introduced him several times as his partner, so he had a place in Jim's work life also. They now ate together, shopped together, worked together, but slept separately. And now Blair was angry. Why were the gods dangling these dreams in front of him? Were they laughing behind his back about the futility of it all?

He threw a bagel onto the counter and tossed the butter tub next to it. He slammed down the strawberry jam and smashed the unsuspecting bagel into the toaster.

"Chief?" Jim stood a few feet away, wearing only a towel, fresh from a shower. The look on his face was one of concern. Blair noticed that his hair was still damp, and his broad shoulders were still sprinkled with drops of water. He looked good enough to eat. Damn him anyway. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Blair growled.

With a raised eyebrow, Jim said, "It doesn't sound like nothing to me."

"I have a headache."

"Do you need to have the doctor check you out again? Maybe the shit that fucking cypher, Lash, stuffed down your throat is having more of an effect than he first thought it would."

"It's not that. Other than the headache, I feel okay."

"I'll get you a couple-"

"Don't bother." Blair turned away from the vision before him. Jim looked so beautiful standing there, his clear blue eyes full of concern; his chest smooth and sculpted; his upper arms strong and muscled; his belly flat and toned... Without another glance, bagel forgotten, Blair raced to the door, grabbing his jacket and backpack, and bolted from the apartment.

He clattered down the stairs and trotted across the street to his car. Unlocking the door, he climbed in, but instead of starting it, he leaned his forehead on the steering wheel, letting out a small groan of sadness mixed with irritation. He had to figure out how to control these dreams. He had to get Jim out of his nightly visions or he'd go crazy. Maybe he should see somebody; a dream interpreter or a psychologist. Or maybe he should move out. With a sigh, Blair realized that he couldn't do that. Nor did he want to. Jim needed him. In just a short time, Jim had begun to rely on him. He needed help with his senses, and he'd started drawing Blair into his cases, showing him evidence and asking his opinion. He even took him on witness interviews and to crime scenes. Jim considered him his partner, and he wanted to act like one. He refused to desert Jim.

"What am I going to do?" Blair closed his eyes, and even though it would be painful to remember, he couldn't help but relive the latest fantasy...

The second the elevator doors closed, Jim moved closer to him. "Swear to me you won't get anything tattooed, Chief. Or pierced or any of that other shit."

He punched the elevator button to the garage level. "And just why should I make that kind of a promise? You don't seem too upset about the nipple ring."

"You got that before I met you. Besides, it's not a good idea wearing a lot of body jewelry in this job. It could get you hurt." Jim crossed his arms, looking as if he was going to launch into a lecture on protocol for a police officer.

"I could take it out." His gaze met Jim's. "Or better yet, you could."

Jim laughed. "Fat chance, Sandburg." He slugged him playfully on the arm. "Are you sure you feel okay?"

"Yes. Thanks, Jim." He gave Jim a smile, pleased at the concern from his friend. "I'm good. The doctor said I didn't get much of that tranquilizer in my system. A trace, he said. It's been almost twenty-four hours, well over the time he gave me for all of it to have fully dissipated. So I'm good."

"I'm glad. So about that promise..."

The elevator doors opened, and he walked quickly beside his partner as they made their way to Jim's truck. Once on the road, he turned in his seat belt and finally said, "Okay. I promise. No piercings and no tattoos."

"Thanks, Chief."

"Now I want something from you."

Jim turned the corner before he glanced over. "What's that?"

"An explanation. Why do you care if I have holes poked in my body or ink shoved under my skin?"

Jim chewed on the inside of his cheek before he asked, "Do you really want to know?"

"Yeah. I do."

Jim slowed down and glanced both ways at a stop sign. He turned left and then left again down a small alleyway until he pulled up alongside a deserted warehouse.

"Jim, why are we here?"

Jim turned off the ignition and unbuckled his seat belt, sliding across the seat. Jim unbuckled his seat belt as well, and in a deadly serious voice said, "Because you're mine." Before he could respond, Jim pulled him close and pressed their mouths together. Jim's tongue worked its way past his lips. He parted them even more, allowing Jim to run the tip of his tongue across his teeth. With a gasp, he opened his mouth in invitation. Jim dove in, deepening the kiss and exploring fully. When the lack of air forced them apart, Jim's eyes met his. "I don't want any marks on you that I haven't put there myself."

When realization of what Jim said smacked him alongside the head, all he could do was nod, his eyes wide and his chest heaving. Finally he managed to say, "I promise. No marks on what is yours."

"Good." Jim's nimble fingers pushed aside his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt and with cool hands, shoved the t-shirt up under his armpits.

Pushing him back against the door, Jim leaned forward, sucking on the ringed nipple. He cried out, arching up from the seat. Spikes of lust coursed through his body. He pushed his chest against the demanding mouth, holding Jim's head in place with his hands. Lost in arousal, he didn't protest when Jim unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. Instead, shifted to give Jim better access while he muttered, "Hurry! Now! Hurry!" as his cock sprung free. "Jim!" he gasped. "Fuck!"

Jim's mouth never left his peaked nipple, and in response to his demands, Jim bit down on the nub hard enough to elicit a yelp from him before Jim took the ring that was threaded through his skin in his teeth and tugged. Jim's hand jacked the thick flesh that swelled even more at the duel stimulation. His hands scrabbled against the back of his partner's head and he cried aloud when his orgasm was wrenched from his body.

"Oh, God. Oh, God," he chanted. "Jimjim!"

"Mine." Jim pulled back a fraction to stare into his eyes.

"Oh, man. Oh, yeah. Definitely. Yours..."

Blair jump in surprise at the knock on his window. Jim stood beside the Corvair, hands in his jacket pockets, looking like a lost little boy. Blair felt his anger dissipate, and he cranked down his window.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"I hope I didn't -- do anything to piss you off," Jim said just as quietly.

"Nah. I'm good. Hope in. I'll drive today."

Jim gave Blair such a warm smile that he knew he'd been forgiven for his display of temper.

\-------------------------

Chapter Six

Blair restlessly paced the floor of his bedroom. The numbers on the clock that rested on his nightstand glowed red in the dark room, seemingly taunting him.

"I won't sleep. I won't sleep," he muttered, counting the twelve steps from one side of the room to the other. "What am I going to do?" he added, sighing and running a hand through his hair. The knock on the doorframe brought him up short. "Shit."

"Sandburg, may I come in?"

With another dejected sigh, Blair called, "Yeah, Jim. Come in."

Pushing aside the curtain, Jim hovered in the doorway. "You okay?"

Blair let out an exasperated huff of breath. "Yes, Jim," he said in a measured tone. "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. Pacing at -- 3:54 am isn't fine."

"Don't start with me. Please."

Jim looked hurt for barely a second before he backed away, letting the curtain slide into place.

With a groan, Blair rushed to the doorway and pushed the curtain aside. "Jim! Listen. I'm sorry. I've been having some -- things lately that refuse to settle down. Every time I try to sleep, my brain races even faster. I appreciate your concern, but I'm sure once I work through this crap, things will be okay." He glanced into his roomie's eyes. "So... Thanks."

"Okay, Sandburg. If you want to talk, you let me know."

"Sure, man. I will. And I'll be quiet. I hate waking you when you've worked hard all day."

"It's not a problem, Chief."

Blair nodded and watched until Jim disappeared around the corner. Turning back to his bed, he thought about why he was really anxious about going to sleep. He was afraid he'd dream about Jim again. He and Jim, having sex, making love, sleeping together... Why did he keep dreaming these things when in his heart, he hadn't longed for any of it? Or had he? Was he lying to himself? Was he falling in love with his partner, his Sentinel? His Sentinel? What the hell was he thinking? Jim was no more his than he was Jim's.

With an irritated snort, he climbed into bed and rolled to his side. He did several breathing exercises and forced himself to think about Gillian, the new TA at Rainier. Finally, after a long while, he drifted to sleep...

Jim patted his cheeks and with a chuckle, walked away. He stood for a moment, shaking his head before he followed his partner.

"Jim, man. Wait up!"

Jim glanced over his shoulder. "Hurry up, Sandburg. I'm hungry."

"Okay. Hold your horses."

Lifting an eyebrow, Jim asked, "What now?"

"It's a deal."

"What's a deal?"

"The offer you just made."

"Offer? Sandburg, sometimes you don't make a bit of sense."

"You said that you'd take another dose of that cold medicine in a controlled environment."

"Now I know you're nuts."

He crossed his arms, moving closer to Jim when several police officers walked past. "You said you would under one condition, and I quote, 'You hang underneath a speeding train while I spend the night handcuffed to Isabel.'"

Jim opened the door to the stairs and walked through. "How do you propose to do that?"

"I don't know. I'll find a way. I'll get Isabel to agree to it if you will. And I'll find another night train. I'll think of something! I'm very persuasive when I need to be. And I want to test your senses in relationship to over-the-counter medications."

Jim stopped on the landing and glared. "I am not a lab rat!"

"I know!" he responded, holding his hands out. "But think about it! How dangerous is it for you to take something you might think of as benign? Aspirin, or a cough drop, or -- rubbing some of that muscle cream on your hurting shoulder. I think this is serious, and I'm willing to do what you want in exchange for your cooperation."

Jim's gaze intently searched his face. "You are serious, aren't you?"

"Yes, very serious. This is your life and your health. I think it's important."

Jim remained silent for a long minute before he slowly nodded. "Okay."

He let out a loud sigh of relief. "Great! We'll make sure everything is one hundred percent safe. You won't be able to hurt yourself, or anybody else, and I'll be with you at all times."

"I trust you, Chief. You make the arrangements, and I'm there."

He grinned. "Thanks, Jim."

"I'll meet you at home for dinner?"

"Okay. Let me grab my jacket, and I'll head home in ten minutes."

"Oh, and Sandburg?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm serious about this. I expect to be compensated for my cooperation, and it will include handcuffs."

He grinned and rocked back on his heels. "Of course!"

\------------------

When he walked into the loft, he glanced around, not seeing his roommate. The day's experiments had been very informative, but he still hadn't been able to get Isabel to agree to a date with Jim, let alone being handcuffed to him. He hoped that Jim had forgotten about their silly bargain by now. "Jim?" he called out, turning toward the coat rack to hang his jacket.

A hand grabbed his wrist and spun him around. He gasped before he saw Jim standing before him, looking quite serious. Before he could ask if something was wrong, Jim snapped the handcuffs around his wrists. "Shhh," Jim ordered. "Time to collect."

"What?"

"Don't you know what 'shhh' means? It means no talking... or do I have to gag you?"

His eyes widened, and his heart hammered in his chest. He shook his head.

Jim nodded and wrapped a hand around the links connecting the handcuffs together. "Do you agree to payment?"

So much for Jim forgetting about his side of the deal. But this turn of events was -- interesting, and he wondered what was coming next. Instead of protesting, he remembered his instructions to remain silent and nodded in agreement. Jim grunted his approval, and he was spun around to face the wall. The chain connecting the handcuffs was quickly looped over one of the coat hooks, raising his arms over his head. It wasn't enough to keep him from removing the chain, but suddenly he realized that it was the last thing he wanted to do.

His breath started to come out in little huffs and his heart thudded. When Jim's hands reached around to run down the flannel shirt covering his chest, he gasped. A hand cupped his genitals, and he closed his eyes, moaning softly while pushing his hips forward into the large palm.

"Slut," Jim whispered. "I knew you'd like this. Tell me, how many men have you had? Twenty?" He shook his head. "Ten?" Again, he indicated the negative. "One?" He hesitated, wondering, if he admitted the truth, if this sweet torture would cease. And he didn't want this to ever end.

"Don't lie," Jim ordered, giving a warning, albeit, light squeeze. "One?" Ever so slowly, he shook his head. "Shit." Jim let out a huff of breath against the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Chief. I just thought..." The hand holding his balls fell away while Jim's other hand reached out to unhook the chain, but he had other ideas. He yanked downward, keeping the metal links in place. "Blair? You want -- this?" He nodded. "You're sure?" Again, he nodded. "Do you want -- me?" Jim whispered. He vehemently nodded, earning him a kiss on the cheek. "Oh, God. But not this way... Not your first time." Again, Jim pushed up on the chain. Again, he put his weight behind the handcuffs, refusing to let his partner release him. "Blair!" Jim's tone was a mixture of pleasure and tentativeness.

Jim's hands moved up and down his body. Even through his clothing, he could feel the heat building between them. Jim stood close to him, close enough that he could feel the hard length of his partner through their pants. He groaned, pushing back.

Jim got his message, but he was adamant when he said, "No way. Definitely not for a first time, but I will let you come, Chief. Later... We'll do more later."

He nodded, closing his eyes. Jim unbuckled his jeans and slipped inside, carefully drawing out his engorged cock. With Jim's long, lean body pressed against his entire back and buttocks, his lover circled his waist with one strong arm while his free hand stroked the thick flesh. Jim's lips suckled his ear lobe, nibbling the soft skin before moving along his neck, sucking gently, being careful not to mark, he realized. He moaned, craning his neck to the side to give the teasing lips more access. His hips thrust madly into the tunnel of Jim's hand, and his breathing was harsh and ragged as the hand alternately stroked and squeezed with a maddeningly arousing rhythm. The intense feelings coursed through his body, and as he sucked in a shaky breath and froze in place, Jim's teeth nipped his ear lobe while he orgasmed, spurting semen against the wall. Holding him upright on shaky legs to keep his body weight from his bound wrists, Jim whispered into his ear, "Told you I'd use those handcuffs..."

Blair woke with a grin on his face. He wondered about himself for a few minutes. How could he enjoy such dreams? And because he did, what did that say about him? He knew he was tired of being angry about the dreams. They weren't his fault, and they certainly weren't Jim's. Maybe it was nothing more than needing a good lay. He'd ask Gillian out later today. She might enjoy a little afternoon delight, but right now... Blair reached down and stroked himself. He bit his lip and thought back to the latest dream. Imagining Jim pressing against him, holding him captive, and bringing him pleasure, he quietly came.

\--------------------------

Chapter Seven  
Sonia Price was just what he needed! Blair wined and dined her, and then bedded her. He would wipe those dreams from his subconscious if it was the last thing he did. Afterward, he admitted to himself that he'd used the woman. She had been sweet and fun, and he had tried to be the same in return. While Blair felt he had been successful in treating her well, he had thought of Jim several times when he made love to her. If only he hadn't overheard Jim and Carolyn's conversation that Sonia's choice of him over Jim had been quite a blow to his ego, Blair might have not slept with her so quickly, but damn it anyway, he needed this. He needed to feel alive and sensual and sexy... and desirable.

When he saw Sonia off to the airport two days later, she didn't seem at all unhappy about their small fling. In fact, she threw her arms around his neck and thanked him for such a great time. He felt torn. He knew he'd used her to make himself feel better, but he'd also tried to be a considerate, if temporary lover. Blair knew he'd been successful with the latter because she was happy when she left. They both knew in advance that their time together was just for fun, and neither expected more. Still, Blair's heart was empty, and it was with a heavy heart that he fell asleep the night Sonia left...

He walked into the loft in the early evening and tossed his keys into the basket.

Jim glanced over his shoulder from his spot on the sofa, beer bottle in hand and sock-clad feet propped on the coffee table. "You're home early."

"Yeah, I know." He yanked off his jacket. "I decided to call it a night."

"Oh? Struck out, huh?" Jim said.

He bristled at Jim's condescending tone. "No, Jim. In fact, I didn't. Sonia asked me in, but I declined."

Jim looked surprised when he asked, "Why's that?"

He glared over his shoulder at his partner while he stalked toward his room. "Because, you asshole, I'm in love with you!" He yanked the curtain that hung in his doorway closed, wishing that he had a door to slam instead. It was hard showing how angry he was with only a piece of material to abuse. It just wasn't very dramatic. If he had been feeling better, he might have laughed at his own silliness.

At Jim's knock on the doorframe, he yelled, "Go away!" When the curtain began to move, he shouted, "I said, go away!"

Through the small opening, Jim said softly, "Blair, may I come in please?"

"No!"

"We need to talk."

He laughed derisively. "In the short time I've known you, Jim, you've never seemed eager to talk."

Jim pushed aside the curtain and slipped inside, but he didn't enter any further. "This is different. You're obviously upset, and I don't know why you're taking it out on me."

With a snort, he threw himself down onto the bed and buried his face in his pillow. "You hate me," he said into the pillow, knowing full well that Jim could hear his muffled words.

"I do not hate you!" After a long pause, Jim asked, "Did you mean that?"

Turning his face to the side, he snapped, "No, I said it to piss you off."

"Sandburg, I'll try once more before I do get pissed. Why are you angry with me? Have I done anything to indicate that you should -- fall in love with me? And what does any of this have to do with Sonia?"

He pushed himself up and sat on the bed, crossing his legs. "I'm so confused!" He raked his hands through his hair, making a bigger mess of the already disheveled strands.

Jim sat down also and said, "We're both adults. Just spit it out."

"You and Carolyn laughed at me."

"What?" Jim's eyes widened. "Oh, that."

At least Jim had the grace to blush, Blair noticed. "Yes, that."

"I admit I was -- jealous."

He gave Jim a sidelong glance. "And you figure you're a much better looking guy than I am. You're tall and built and blond."

"Brown, Chief. My hair is brown." At his shrug, Jim added, "I was jealous, but it wasn't so much that she picked you, but that you picked her."

"So what? This isn't the first time a woman has picked me over you. And plenty have picked you over me. What's different now? Why did you have to -- belittle me to your ex?" He suddenly paused before he said, "What did you say?"

"I'm sorry! Okay! That stuff with Carolyn and me... It was just bullshit! I wanted you to pick me, you thickhead genius! Sometimes, Sandburg, you talk so much that you don't hear a thing!"

Their gazes locked. "Really?" he asked expectantly. "You really mean that. It wasn't just a slip of the tongue. You really wanted me to pick you?" At Jim's nod, he felt his anger vanish before he gave his friend a small smile. "Because that's why I came home early. I'd rather be here with you, watching the tube and eating popcorn than having sex with a beautiful woman. How sick is that?"

Jim scooted closer, reaching out to stroke his hair. "Not sick at all. In fact, it's very flattering." Jim was serious when he said, "Ditto, Chief."

"Ditto?" he echoed, chuckling a little, loving Jim's finger's carding his hair.

"On the popcorn and TV. Rather be here with you than with... whomever."

"Cool," he responded with a smile.

"So how about you and me make some of that popcorn, turn on the television, and -- neck on the sofa." Jim gave him a sweet smile.

"It's a date."

Laughing, Jim ruffled his hair and said affectionately, "You are such a rogue..."

With a smile, Blair woke slowly. He rolled to his back and stretched, feeling rested and refreshed. He could hear his roomie in the kitchen, making coffee. "That was a nice one," he said softly. "Thanks, Jim." As if on cue, Jim's voice echoed through the loft.

"Sandburg! The water heater's busted! You're going to have to take a cold shower this morning!" There was a pause before his friend's voice added, "And we're out of toilet paper!"

Laughing, Blair rose and went to have his first cup of coffee with Jim.

\---------------------------------

Chapter Eight  
With Jim out on an all-night stake out, Blair was on his own for dinner. He pulled a storage container from the fridge and opened the lid. With a grimace, he saw the leftover noodles that Jim and Drennan had prepared two nights ago. The same night that Maya had left... He clamped the lid back on, his eyes prickling. Damn it anyway, he groused to himself. She's gone! Get over it. No longer hungry, Blair wandered to his bedroom and lay down. He might as well go to sleep, he figured. At least in his dreams, somebody loved him. Somebody was concerned about whether or not he was happy and cared for. Jim cared...

"Come on, Sandburg. You didn't eat any lunch, and you refused to eat dinner with Drennan and me. You've been in your room for hours now." Jim paused before he cajoled, "I saved you some noodles. I even put in sesame seeds. They're your favorite."

He sighed and sat up, rubbing his irritated eyes. "Let me go and splash some water on my face. Okay?"

"Sure. I'll heat this up for you. Beer?"

"Nah."

"Tea?"

Nodding, he rose. "Sure. Thanks."

Jim smiled. "We'll sit in the living room."

He paused, raising an eyebrow. "You must be worried if you're actually suggesting we eat in the living room instead of yelling at me about getting food on the sofa."

Shrugging, Jim said, "You had a rough couple of days. Not to mention that lump on the side of your face. I'll get you a couple of aspirin, too."

"Thanks, man."

He ate the bowl of noodles that Jim heated for him, and drank two cups of tea. Jim nodded approvingly, and after they'd finished (Jim had a beer and a half a bag of pretzels), they sat side by side watching some documentary until he started to drift off. Jim tugged on his arm until he acquiesced and lay his head on his partner's lap. He was a bit surprised at the open show of affection, but it felt too good to question. Jim's hand stroked his arm for a good while before moving to his head. Soft caresses down his hair and on his temples felt so wonderful, and it wasn't long before he fell asleep with Jim watching over him. A Sentinel guarding his tribe of one...

When Blair's eyes drifted open, he let out a small sigh. It had been a good dream, soft and warm, and he felt better. He knew he'd get over Maya eventually; that it wasn't meant to be. But right now, he was still feeling the sting of a lost love. Leave it to him to get love and guns all mixed together in one swoop. Dreaming about Jim had helped. Maybe these dreams weren't so bad after all.

\-------------------------

Chapter Nine

Blair lay in bed with images of Jim cavorting through his mind, as usual. When he'd gone up the stairs to his partner's bedroom that morning with the wine glass wrapped in a towel, he hadn't been sure what would happen. It was more than astonishing to him that Jim could actually sense Laura's pheromones on that glass. She had touched it hours ago and he still reacted. Jim was amazing. His senses were miraculous and wonderful and plain -- amazing. No wonder Jim had no control over his attraction to Laura. This was definitely something primal in a Sentinel; a new chapter for his dissertation, he thought with a chuckle. While he felt badly over Jim's hurt feelings about Laura, he couldn't repress the scientist in him that was in awe of a Sentinel's abilities. But he did have to admit, he was sometimes glad he didn't have those abilities himself. And this was one of those times.

There had been some good things that had happened, though. He saw Jim without his shirt yet again, and those times were some of his favorite moments. Since the dreams had started, he'd been alternately surprised, angry and confused. Now he was almost -- happy about them. At least in his sleep, his dream self seemed to have a lot of fun. With a small snort, Blair rolled to his side and curled up, drifting off into his own world of Jim Ellison...

"Stop that, Sandburg!"

Startled, he looked up from his book. "Jim? What?"

Jim stood before him, his hands on his hips. "Just stop it!"

Rising, he set the book aside and looked at his roommate through narrowed eyes. "What is wrong with you? I'm only reading. What? My thoughts are bothering you also tonight? My lips are moving too loudly? What?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Jim crossed his arms, glaring.

With an exasperated sigh, he said, "Unless you tell me what's going on, I'm going to bed."

As he walked by his silent partner, Jim reached out and grabbed his upper arm. "You're doing what she did," he ground out.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he ordered. "Man, you are driving me nuts! Ever since this afternoon when Laura was taken to lockup, you've been acting strange. Look at me." When Jim's eyes met his, he asked, "Are you in withdrawal?" Jim rolled his eyes and with a scowl, turned his face away. "You are! I don't believe it. You were high on her scent, and now you're crashing." He shook the hand from his arm, intending to escape from this weird conversation when he saw the confusion etched on his partner's face. After another momentary pause, he asked softly, "Exactly what do you want me to stop?"

Jim looked like he was ready to bolt and it was only after a long moment that he finally blurted out, "Pheromones."

"Pheromones?"

"Yeah."

"You mean... My pheromones?" A curt nod from Jim gave him his answer. "Oh, shit. You can smell... I'm sorry! I didn't mean... Well, shit."

"You mean... You don't -- you know, want them?"

"Want them? Hell, no!"

Jim's face turned cold and he walked toward the door. Grabbing his keys, Jim started to turn the knob. Not willing to let the misunderstanding widen, he rushed over and slipped between his partner and the door.

"Don't go." At the emotionless face turned toward him, he sighed. "Listen... It's hard to say this, but... For a while now, I've been -- attracted to you." The steely blue eyes looked into his, and he saw a glint of interest behind the wall of ice. "When you could smell Laura's and not mine, I figured you -- liked hers better. At first, I didn't know it was possible that you could even do it. But once I understood what you were capable of, I was surprised you could smell something like somebody's arousal. Then I realized that you could smell hers, but all I could think was: why not me?" He ran a hand down his face. "But what could I do? You and Laura had something; we didn't, and nothing I could have said could have made a difference...

"You guys had chemistry." He put a hand on Jim's chest. "I wished that it was me. That we had chemistry. And if you are attracted to my pheromones, then maybe there's -- something there after all. Maybe now that Laura's gone, you and I..."

Jim's face relaxed, and he finally said quietly, "I like your pheromones, Chief."

His face brightened. "Cool. Because there's nobody else in the world I want to like my pheromones other than you. So..."

"So..." Jim smiled. "So I like other things about you. Other than your pheromones, of course."

He grinned, basking in the warmth of Jim's gaze. He hated when his partner's face was a cold slate. He liked a warm Jim much better. "Do tell."

"Later. I'm much better with show than tell..."

Waking to the alarm clock's buzz, Blair rolled over and lay for a moment, smiling. "That was nice," he whispered to the Kachina doll staring at him from his nightstand. "I wish..." With a shrug, he rose to get ready to go with Jim to that stake-out down at the docks. They had the night shift and had forty-five minutes before they needed to relieve Brown and Rafe. Just enough time to throw on some clothes and brew up a fresh pot of coffee for the thermos. Maybe Jim would make some sandwiches while he got the coffee ready. Hurrying, he went to join his partner in the kitchen.

\-----------------------

Chapter Ten

It had been so wonderful seeing Brother Marcus again. Blair smiled while he emptied his overnight bag into the hamper. He grabbed the laundry basket and headed into the kitchen. Might as well do the laundry, he mused, trotting up the stairs to retrieve Jim's dirty clothes also. Back down in the kitchen, he found detergent and fabric softener under the kitchen sink and headed down to the basement.

Clothing sorted and put into the two washers, he opened one of the journals he'd been reading and started to check out an article by his mentor, Eli Stoddard, about the effects of modern civilization on the indigenous people of Borneo. Blair was impressed. That would be a hell of a study in which to participate. He read while the washing machines ran through their cycles. When they finished, he put the wet material into the dryers and set the timers for forty-five minutes. Thinking he'd maybe go back upstairs and return when the laundry was dry, he instead sat back down and leaned back in the chair. In minutes, he was drifting to sleep...

"I still can't believe Brother Theodore blessed your gun!"

Jim shrugged, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. He removed the weapon from his back clip and set it on the small table just inside the front door.

"He said it was to bless me with the gift of good judgment and rational thought during the performance of my duties."

"I know. Isn't that great?"

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not all."

"No?"

"No. After you went to pack a bag for Brother Marcus to drop off at the hospital, he also gave me another blessing and said something really -- strange. He told me to use my special gifts wisely."

His eyebrow arched. "Special gifts? You mean... Did you tell him?"

"No, not a word."

"He's a very intuitive man, Jim."

Jim gave a small snort. "Apparently. So, Sandburg... Why were you so quiet on the drive home? I'd have thought you would have been all wound up about the visit you had with Brother Marcus at the hospital."

He gave his friend a small smile. "We had a good visit, and I'm very happy he's going to be okay." He walked over to the sofa and sank onto the cushions. "He gave me some -- unsettling information." At Jim's curious glance, he added, "It's about his time in the outside world. When he was Jackie Kozinski." Jim walked over to the sofa and sat down beside him. He had to smile. Only Jim had the patience to sit quietly and let him tell his story at his own speed. "He told me he knew my mom back then... Back in '67 and '68."

Jim's forehead wrinkled in thought before his eyes widened. "You don't mean...! You aren't...? Oh, wow."

He nodded. "Yeah, I think I am..." Clearing his throat, he shook his head. ""Heck, Jim. I don't think, I know I'm his son. He said while he was in the hospital that he'd have them run a DNA test, and that if I was interested, he'd give his permission to compare mine to his."

"Are you going to do it?"

Shrugging, he said, "I guess so. I don't need the DNA test to prove it. I believe him. But I think he'd like it if I did. It's made him very happy, and I think he wants some sort of proof. It makes it more -- real for him."

"I would have thought you'd be happy about finding your father."

"Oh, I am. I love Brother Marcus. On one hand, it's just a bit more than I had expected from the weekend. But now that I think about it, it wasn't such a big shock in the long run. Don't ask me why, but I just -- knew. But the main thing was that the weekend was supposed to be a time for you to recharge your batteries, not for you to be in jeopardy once again. I'm sorry for everything that happened."

"Not your fault, Blair. And besides, a couple of good things came out of the weekend."

"Good. I'm glad you found some peace."

Jim smiled and moved a bit closer. "There's something I want to tell you. I talked to Brother Marcus myself, and he said..." Jim's gaze slid away from his for a second before the obviously embarassed Sentinel cleared his throat and returned to look into his eyes. "He said that you're -- attracted to me."

He ducked his face, letting his hair fall forward, hiding his features. "Oh. He told you that."

"I know he didn't break a confidence, so I assumed that you were okay with him telling me. I mean, you didn't ask him not to apparently, and I hope I wasn't out of line..."

"Jim, man. It's okay. It's true. I did talk to him about you, about us. And I didn't swear him to secrecy. No confessional privilege was broken."

Jim let out a relieved laugh. "Good, because I feel the same. I'm falling for you, Chief, in a big way."

His face lit up, and he moved closer to his partner. "Really? That is so cool, man, because I'm falling for you in a big way."

"Cool? I've just made a fairly major declaration, and your only response is cool?"

With a light heart, he laughed. "Cool is good, Jim. I can show you how good if you'd like."

Jim laughed also and nodded happily. "I'd really like that. I have a feeling I'm going to wish that you had taken that vow of silence after all."

With a mischievous grin, he launched himself at Jim...

The dryer's buzzer woke Blair from his sweet dream, and it was with a smile and a light heart that he folded his and Jim's clothes, mingling them in the laundry basket. He liked seeing them touching, nestled together in layers of colorful cloth. Maybe he'd go up and make that rice and broccoli casserole Jim liked so much, and he'd put extra cheese and crushed crackers on the top, just the way his partner liked it.

\---------------------------

Chapter Eleven

Blair finished his beer and picked up his empty bottle, along with Jim's. "Another one?" he asked, holding out the empty bottle.

"No. Thanks, Chief. I think I'll run to the market. We've been gone long enough that everything in that fridge is history."

"Want some company?"

"Nope. I have a handle on it. I'll get the makings for dinner. You want anything else?"

"A package of whole wheat bagels for breakfast?"

Jim smiled and patted Blair's shoulder. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Sure, man. Enjoy."

Unhappily, Blair watched Jim's retreat from the balcony. He listened while his friend picked up his keys from the basket beside the door and turned the knob. The soft click of the lock indicated his departure. Blair sighed. He'd thought that after the adventure they'd shared; after going to Peru and rescuing Simon and Daryl, and after what happened with the children and the drug lab and... well, everything, that Jim would finally open up to him. But even tonight, he could tell that Jim had something on his mind. When Blair had asked, Jim brushed him off, as usual, but Blair didn't buy his excuse that he was too tired to talk about it. And just what had caught Jim's eye? While they were out on the balcony enjoying that first sip of beer, he had turned and his gaze was definitely focused on something from inside the loft. Blair's own gaze searched the interior of the apartment, but he could see nothing. After a few moments, Jim's attention returned to Blair, and he dismissed Blair's invitation to talk yet again. So they had sat quietly, drinking their beers and relaxing. Now Jim made it obvious that he wanted to be alone, and Blair respected his wishes. What else could he do? His partner wasn't the sharing type, and he rarely let Blair into his private world. Would Jim ever trust him enough to let him in? With a sad sigh, Blair sat back on his lawn chair and closed his eyes...

"Man, it's good to be home!" He took a pull from his beer and smiled at Jim, who returned the smile with one of his own.

"Tell me about it," Jim said testily. "That was a hell of a trip."

Ignoring Jim's terse tone, he nodded as he rose. "Another?" he asked, holding out his own empty bottle. Jim nodded, draining the last sip and passing it to him. "Anything-" Jim's focus suddenly sifted toward the loft's interior yet again.

He glanced into the apartment, but saw nothing. Returning his attention to Jim, he saw Jim's gaze intently drawn to -- something. "Hey." He placed a hand on Jim's shoulder, but received no response. "Jim, you're scaring me. What is it? Is it the panther? Are you seeing it here?"

Jim gave a small shiver and looked up at him with surprised eyes. "Yeah. I can see it. It's standing on my bed, looking down at me right this second."

"Oh, wow. Really?" He walked into the living room and stared upward. "I wish I could see it! That is so damned amazing! Jim, you are so lucky! I'm sure it's some sort of totem. I need to do some research, but I'm wondering if every Sentinel has a protective totem."

Jim came up behind him and put a hand on each of his shoulders, gently squeezing. "Thank you," he said huskily.

He glanced over his shoulder into his partner's eyes. "What for?"

"For not thinking I'm fucking nuts seeing -- it... the panther."

Turning, he shook his head. "Oh, no! I'd never think you were crazy! There's a reason you have these abilities. You're special, Jim. Very special!"

He was surprised to see Jim blush. "I don't know, Sandburg..."

"Trust me on this. I know from when I speak."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "You are one strange guy."

Raising himself up on his toes before rocking back on his heels, he grinned. "Thanks. No use being one of the crowd."

Jim laughed as he reached out with both hands. "You're definitely not one of the crowd, Chief."

His partner's thumbs rubbed his collarbones gently Even through the material of his shirt, Jim's touch made him shiver. "Thanks, man. And neither are you."

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

He grinned, nodding happily. "We are!"

"How about that beer?"

"Coming right up." After placing the two empty bottles on the counter, he retrieved two cold ones from the fridge and twisted off the tops. He dropped the caps into the trash before joining Jim on the sofa. "Here you go."

Nodding his thanks, Jim said, "I had a vision."

He stopped mid-sip. "What?"

"You asked about my senses... In the jungle. When I regained my abilities." Moving to the edge of the sofa, he waited, holding his breath, for Jim to speak. After a long minute, his patience was rewarded when Jim began. "I followed the panther through the jungle. It ran up onto a stone altar of sorts. The entire surface was covered with Incan or Aztec symbols and faces. Then it... morphed into a warrior." Jim picked at the paper on his bottle. "It looked like the warrior on the photographic plate in that book of yours. 'The Sentinels of Paraguay'." Jim's gaze sought his out. He patted Jim's knee and nodded encouragingly, so his partner continued. "He told me to choose, so I did. I chose to be a Sentinel. It was like somebody turned the switch back on. All of a sudden, my abilities were back. And I heard you and Kimberly and the children being taken away..." Jim took a sip of his beer. "I was afraid to tell you. It sounds so -- ridiculous, but now I know I can tell you anything."

"That means a lot to me, Jim. You mean a lot to me, too."

Jim smiled. "You too, Chief. More than you know."

"Oh?"

With a casual shrug, Jim said, "You and me, Blair. We make a hell of a team."

"That we do. So... you want me to make us some supper?"

"Nothing in the fridge to eat, Sandburg. Everything is either hard as a rock or covered with mold."

"Sounds like we need to hit the grocery store."

"We could make a quick run right now, then come back and maybe grill some burgers or something."

"Good idea. Let's do that. I'll grab my jacket and some cash."

"I'll drive."

"What? You don't like my wheels?"

"It's raining, and your roof leaks."

"Does not!"

"Does so!"

Laughing, they both tried to walk through the doorway together. They jostled each other, elbows jabbing playfully before Jim ruffled his hair and pulled him into a quick hug...

The loft door slammed, jarring him out of his dream. "Jim?" he called out.

"Just me, Chief."

Rising, he walked to the balcony doorway. "Need a hand?"

Jim seemed to examine him for a moment before he finally nodded and smiled. "Sure, Chief. I bought strawberries. You in the mood for strawberry shortcake?"

With a smile, he went to help Jim make supper.

\---------------------------

Chapter Twelve

"Angie gone?" Blair asked, sitting at Jim's desk with his head cradled on his arm.

"Yeah," Jim responded. "I think she's going to be all right."

"She's a strong woman." Blair sighed tiredly. "I hope it all works out. It sucks when things from out of the past come back to slam you upside the head. Speaking of upside the head, my head is not cooperating right now." He gingerly touched the place where Weston had clocked him, not once, but twice.

Jim gave him a sympathetic smile. "Let's get you home."

"Thanks, man. I have a headache that won't quit. And I'm sorry to say, as good as Angie's new album is, the decibel level that Simon played it at didn't do good things to my brain." Chuckling, Jim draped Blair's jacket over his shoulders and with a hand under his elbow, dragged him to his feet. Blair gave a sidelong glance at Jim. "You don't look all that good yourself, Detective."

"To tell you the truth, my hand is killing me, and that bullet wound on my arm hurts like hell."

"We need to get those dials back under control."

"At home, Sandburg. I need a strong cup of coffee and a hot shower."

"I'm with you, man. Lead on."

\---------------------

"Feeling better?" Blair asked when his partner emerged from the shower in a cloud of steam.

"Yeah. You?"

"Yes. Took a couple of aspirin while you were showering. I'm doing okay. I've made tea."

"Smells good."

"How are the dials?"

"Manageable."

"I'm all for a cup of soothing tea and then bed."

"I think I'll pass on that tea, Chief. I'm beat. Good night." Jim gave him a ghost of a smile before he turned to climb the stairs.

"Sleep well, Jim."

Blair poured himself a cup of the chamomile tea and added a dollop of honey. He carried the cup into his bedroom and after climbing in, leaned against the pillows, sipping the brew when it cooled a bit. The warmth started to lull him to sleep and after finishing the last sip, he set the cup on the floor and closed his eyes...

"Tea?" he asked, holding aloft the pot he'd just brewed. "It's chamomile. It will help you sleep."

"Smells good, Chief. Thanks."

Jim came around the counter and while he poured two cups, Jim slipped an arm around his waist. He stood very still, somewhat surprised at his friend's action, but having his partner close felt so damned good that he was afraid to move and ruin the moment.

"Do you mind?" Jim asked as his lips brushed his ear.

"No," he squeaked, irritated at the way his voice broke. His hand shook as he added honey to the cups of tea. Jim's hand covered his.

"I'm making you nervous."

Shaking his head, he said as reassuringly as he could, "No. I'm just -- surprised."

"Is that a bad thing or a good thing?" Jim said huskily.

"Oh, definitely good. It's -- nice having you close."

"I've been wanting to get close for a while now, but I wasn't sure how you'd respond." Jim's hand moved down his body and when he reached his waistband, the hand stopped. "From here, I can tell you're responding very positively, Chief."

He gave a small snort and wiggled back an inch to let their bodies touch. "I'm responding, man. Definitely responding."

Jim's arm tightened around his waist. "Let's take the tea upstairs. I'm afraid I'm too tired tonight and not in the best condition for much, but I'd like to -- hold you. If that's okay," Jim added hastily.

Leaning his head back on Jim's shoulder, he nodded slowly. "Oh, man," he whispered. "I'd really, really like that. Very much."

A small kiss touched his ear. "Come on then." His partner reached out and picked up one of the cups, stepping back.

He let out a small groan at the loss of the bodily contact, but when he picked up his own cup and turned to look into his friend's face, he smiled. Jim gazed at him with interest and approval. He felt -- good, in spite of his injuries, and with anticipation, he followed Jim up the stairs to what was now going to be a bed shared by both of them...

"Sandburg?"

Blair woke to the gentle shaking. "Jim?" he asked.

"You were talking in your sleep and moaning. Are you okay?"

Blinking, Blair nodded. "Sorry. Yeah. I'm fine. Really. It's all good."

"You sure?"

Blair nodded again. "Yes. Go back to bed. "

"Okay. If you're sure."

Blair made swooshing motions with his hands. "Go and get some sleep, Jim. I'm good. It wasn't a nightmare, just -- weird."

"Okay. Good night then."

"Night, Jim."

\--------------------------------

Chapter Thirteen

"Thanks, Sandburg."

"Sure, man," Blair said with a nod at his friend as Jim climbed into the passenger seat of the Corvair. "Did you hate it?"

Jim gave a curt nod. "Yeah, and Jack would have hated it also. When I go, please spare me the pomp and circumstance and the rest of that shit. Just stick me in the ground and let me rot."

Blair sighed deeply. "Listen," he said as he merged into the light afternoon traffic, "funerals aren't for the dead, Jim. They've always been for the living. As an anthropologist, I understand the need for ritual. It helps those left behind to cope and to come to grips with the fact that their friend or loved one is gone. The ceremony gives the loved one a sense of peace; a way to say good-bye-"

"Can we skip the lecture for once?" Jim groused, cutting in.

"Whatever," Blair muttered, falling silent for the rest of the drive home. As they walked toward their apartment building, Jim paused before he turned toward his truck. "Jim?" Blair called, standing on the curb, puzzled.

"Going to go for a drive," Jim said over his shoulder. Without another glance at Blair, he climbed into his truck and drove off.

Blair shook his head. "Will you ever trust me, Jim? All I want is for you to talk to me. I'm sorry you can't do that." He turned and dejectedly walked into the building. Punching the elevator's 'up' button, he waited for the door to open. When the car finally reached the ground floor, the door remained closed, seemingly stuck. He kicked it with his foot. "Piece of shit."

He had no choice but to take the stairs and once he reached his home, he entered the silent loft. It was still early and he had planned on cooking something Jim would like. Something to comfort, and to show he cared. To let him know how much he wished that Jim hadn't lost yet another friend. But Jim didn't give him a chance to show his concern and to extend his hand in friendship. As far as Jim was concerned, Blair didn't feel like he was any more to Jim than an almost -- extemporaneous friend, albeit a useful one at times for his senses, but still not one to confide in. Like Jack's car, hidden under deep water, Jim kept his emotions and feelings hidden from the world.

He put a frozen pizza in the oven, and while it heated, he thought yet again about Jim. The detective seemed to trust him on the street, that much he admitted to himself, and at work, he treated Blair with a kind of lazy acceptance. Food hot, he ate the pizza and drank a couple of beers while he watched a Lethal Weapon marathon on the tube, falling asleep half-way through the second movie...

"That was a very nice ceremony, Jim," he said, watching his partner climb into the Corvair. "Did you know that it's a sign of honor to discharge weapons at a funeral? It all started centuries ago as a signal to others that your weapons were empty, and you came in peace."

"You don't say?" Jim said absentmindedly.

"Yeah. When ships came into the harbor, they fired their cannon to indicate that they intended no harm. Now it's a sign of respect." Jim nodded. "Are you okay?"

"I guess so."

"You want to head home?"

"Yeah. Okay."

He watched Jim out of the corner of his eye. Jim naturally seemed disheartened about Jack's death, and even more so about the involvement with Emily. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," Jim responded quietly.

"You have to forgive yourself."

"No, I don't."

"Man, you surely love the martyrdom thing."

"What?" Jim snapped, turning in his seatbelt slightly. "I enjoy what?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

"No, I'm not forgetting it. You'd better tell me exactly what kind of shit you're shoveling, Sandburg."

He sighed. "It's not shit, Jim. You seem to need to make yourself suffer! You were like this with Danny-"

"That was my fault!"

"You're proving my point. It was not your fault. He was a cop doing his job! You didn't kill him, and you didn't kill Jack!" He pulled into his parking spot in front of their building and killed the engine. "I understand how painful this is! I've lost friends too, but I don't think everything that happens is something I can control."

"I should have been able to do something! If I hadn't been fucking his girlfriend, this wouldn't have happened! He'd still be alive." Jim shoved the door open and clamored out of the vehicle. He slammed the door and stalked toward his truck. "Don't wait up for me."

"Jim, please. Don't do this. Come home so we can talk. We'll hash this out, and you'll feel a heck of a lot better. Trust me. Talking helps."

Jim put his hand on the handle of the truck's driver's door. "I don't want to talk about it! Don't you get that?"

He stepped closer to his hurting partner. "Then let me fix you something to eat while you take a break. You've been running non-stop this week, and you need some downtime." Jim's fingers tightened, his knuckles going white. "Please," he asked softly. "It would mean a lot to me." Relieved when Jim gave a curt nod and walked toward the sidewalk, he followed his friend into the elevator and up to their apartment. Entering, he said, "Go and take a nice hot shower while I'll fix us something to eat." Again, Jim was silent, but he did as bid, disappearing into the bathroom, emerging when he had the food ready.

They sat at the table, slurping chicken noodle soup and munching grilled cheese and peanut butter sandwiches. He smiled to himself, remembering Jim's outrage when he'd first spread peanut butter on the bread before grilling his cheese sandwich. Jim wrinkled his nose at the finished product, but at his insistence, Jim had tasted the sandwich. He remembered laughing at his friend's face. It went from distaste to acceptance in a half second, and when Jim finally smiled, asking for his own sandwich, he'd laughed even more and made Jim two. Now they considered them the ultimate comfort food, and Jim's pleased glance as he ate let him know that his partner knew his scheme and appreciated his efforts. Silently, they ate and cleaned up, side by side. The way it should be, he knew.

Just as silently, they brewed coffee and carried cups into the living room, to sprawl on the sofa together. Sipping the hot liquid and eating a few butter cookies left over from the batch he'd bought from the bakery yesterday, they shared a comfortable silence and a comfortable space on the couch. A few hours later, when Jim fell asleep, sliding sideways, he guided the tired man's head onto his lap, knowing full well that he was taking advantage of Jim's weariness from the emotionally draining week to coddle the man. His partner wouldn't allow it while he was awake, he knew, so he enjoyed the status quo while it lasted.

He trailed his fingers ever so lightly through the short-cropped hair, watching the television with half an eye. It wasn't until his fingers were grabbed in a strong hand that he froze in place, shocked that Jim had woken and found him touching his hair. He sucked in a startled breath and sat up stiffly, barely breathing, with his hand locked in the vise of his partner's grip. They stayed that way for a long minute before Jim's hand opened and his fingers were released.

"Sorry..." he whispered.

"It's okay. Feels -- nice."

His eyes widened. Nice? "Oh," he let out in a huffy whisper. "Good."

"Don't -- stop."

Again, shock registered to his brain. "Okay," he finally managed to say, letting his hand return to its duties, stroking the soft yet bristly hairs along Jim's strong neck. He didn't speak again for a long while, but let his fingers convey his feelings -- feelings that he knew he'd kept under lock and key for a good while now. After a long time, Jim took his hand again, but this time, his friend pressed gentle lips into the center of his palm, making him gasp.

"Jim?" he squeaked, irritated at the bewilderment that he couldn't keep from his tone.

"Would you...? I really need...? God, I am such a jerk!" Jim started to rise, irritation at his own inability to express himself clearly etched on his face.

He moved quickly, leaping up to press his hands against the strong shoulders, forestalling Jim's escape. "Tell me," he ordered softly. "I want to know what you need. Anything. You can ask me anything. Tell me anything."

Jim flinched under his palms, his shoulders jerking. "I don't know... if I can."

"Can what? Can tell me what you want from me?" A terse nod was Jim's response. He chewed his lower lip for a moment before he boldly asked, "Do you love me?" Jim's shoulders slumped and he nodded again, this time slowly. "Let's go upstairs. Okay?" Another nod. "I need to hear you say yes, Jim. You have to agree. I have to hear it."

Jim swallowed loudly enough for him to hear before he looked up with a pleading look on his face. Blue eyes made brighter with the hint of wetness that touched them gazed longingly at him. "Yes. Please."

A wide smile crossed his face, and his hand cupped the strong jaw. "Okay, then. I'd love to. With you and only you. Understand?"

Jim's face brightened, and although he didn't smile, he eyes certainly did. "Oh, yes."

They climbed the stairs together, and with Jim standing beside the bed, he undressed his lover, slowly and gently, kissing the firm flesh, as it was unveiled. He neglected no part of Jim's body, and soon they lay spread on the bed, chest to chest. Kissing and touching, he worshiped Jim with lips and fingers and finally, cock, buried deep in the giving flesh until they merged as one...

The sun streaming in through the balcony windows finally woke Blair. He glanced down at his own body, seeing that he had been covered with the blanket from the back of the sofa. So Jim had come home sometime after he'd fallen asleep and had taken the time to cover him. He glanced around. Jim had also cleaned up the leftover pizza and beer bottles, and turned off the television, all without waking him up to yell at the mess he'd made. Blair reconsidered his conclusions that he'd made yesterday about Jim not thinking about him as more than a roommate and an annoyance. Jim's actions showed that he did care about him, and with a smile, Blair got up to make sure there were clean towels in the bathroom for Jim's morning shower and to fix his partner a good breakfast.

\------------------------------

Chapter Fourteen

Slumped in the hard plastic hospital chair, Blair dozed. Jim nudged his arm, holding out yet another paper cup of vending machine-brewed coffee. He almost refused, but Jim looked like he was pleased to have brought him the bitter stuff, so he took the cup with a smile and a word of thanks.

"Any news?"

Jim nodded, sipping his coffee. "Yeah. The surgeon came in a while ago. Simon's in recovery. They got the bullet out and the bleeding stopped."

"He's doing okay?"

"They had to give him a couple of pints of blood and right now, they're giving him IV antibiotics, but otherwise, they say he'll be fine. Maybe a touch of muscle damage."

"Whew," Blair said, relieved. "Remind me to skip my class reunion when the time comes." He took a sip of the bitter coffee before he asked, "So now what's the plan?"

Jim shrugged, finishing his coffee. He rose and tossed the cup into the nearest waste bin. "The doctor says Simon could possibly travel in two or three days, but he's definitely out on medical leave for at least a month. We could hang out; then drive him back. But if you have classes to teach or something, we could drive back now and either we drive back up, or maybe Joel could. I'm sure Daryl wants to see his dad."

"Let me make a few calls... What time is it anyway?"

"Six-thirty."

Running a hand through his hair, he stretched. "I'll call Gretchen at eight when she gets in and make sure my eleven o'clock class on Thursday is covered. Otherwise, I don't have anything to worry about. I'm all yours, little buddy."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Once Simon's into a room, I'm ready to find a hotel and take a shower."

"And sleep for a week." Blair glanced around and when he knew they were alone, he said softly, "You looked pretty good in that deputy's uniform."

Jim gave him an exasperated glance and sat down in the chair next to him. "You are asking for it, aren't you?"

Before Blair could teasingly ask exactly what Jim was going to give him, a white-coated woman walked through the double doors leading to the visitors' lounge. "Mr. Ellison?"

Jim rose, as did Blair. "Yes, ma'am."

"He's in room 203, resting comfortable. He'll be asleep for at least eight hours."

Blair asked, "He's okay?"

"Yes, fine. Everything went very well. He woke briefly in the recovery room, so he's fully aware of his surroundings, but Captain Banks is a lucky man. The blood loss and the surgery have taken their toll, of course, so he needs his rest. Go home and get some sleep yourselves." She gave each man a stern glance. "You look like you need it."

Thanking the doctor, Jim and Blair took her advice and headed for the nearest motel.

"Are you hungry?" Jim asked, tossing the hotel room card on the dresser and dropping his duffel on the floor.

"No, I just want to sleep." He likewise set his bag on the floor before he flopped down on the double bed closest to him and sprawled out. Dragging the pillow under his head, he gave a tired groan.

"Shoes, Sandburg."

"Yeah, yeah," Blair muttered. Rolling over, he sat up and untied the laces on his hiking boots, dropping them to the floor, where each hit with a soft thunk. Rubbing his face with both hands, he rose and used the bathroom, washed his face and hands and brushed his teeth. "Thanks, Jim," he said when he returned to the bedroom. At Jim's puzzled glance, he waved a hand. "My stuff. For putting my toiletries in the bathroom. And for looking very -- authoritative in that uniform."

Jim rolled his eyes, giving a snort of amusement. "Go to bed, Chief."

With a tired grin, Blair stripped off his clothes and in his t-shirt and boxers, crawled between the covers. He was asleep almost instantly...

The officer swaggered toward him, dressed in a brown deputy sheriff's uniform. The star on his chest gleamed in the lamp's bright glow. With the hat jauntily perched on his head, the officer shucked the jacket and dress shirt before moving onto the pants. He waited expectantly, aroused immediately, his mouth open to breathe, when the officer stripped and approached him wearing only the hat and the holster slung low on his hips. The gun in the holster bounced against the officer's bare leg while the officer's -- other weapon provocatively led the way.

"Like my gun, Chief," the officer asked, fondling both of the weapons simultaneously. At his wide-eyed, open-mouthed surprise, the officer laughed deeply, throwing back his head. The hat fell to the floor. "I'll take that as a yes!" the man chortled. "Is this what you want?" the officer asked, fisting his erection. "Is this worth the price of your transgressions?"

From his place on the bed, lying on his side, he kept his eyes glued on the man before him, and he slowly nodded. The officer set the pistol on the nightstand but he kept the holster on his waist. The officer stroked himself, the hard cock inches away at almost eye-level. He squirmed, only now remembering that he was as naked as the day he was born and that his hands were handcuffed behind him. He glanced upwardly into the officer's eyes. "Am I your prisoner?" he whispered, his throat suddenly dry.

The officer's eyebrow arched. "Definitely. I'm in charge here, prisoner. You will do as I say; no questions asked. Do you understand?"

This time, he didn't bother speaking, but opened his mouth in invitation and waited. He hoped he didn't seem too eager. After all, he was a prisoner. The officer stared down at him for a moment before the man pushed the head of the thick cock against his lips. His eyes widened, as did his mouth. The officer grunted his approval at this gesture of acquiescence, slipping the thick flesh in deeper. He made a small noise deep in his throat and adjusted his jaw to accommodate the swelling cock.

"You're my prisoner, buddy-boy," the officer informed him as he pushed forward before backing out part way. With one hand, the officer cradled his head at the right height while the other was used to guide the flesh in and out of his cooperative mouth. "You're under arrest," the officer said breathlessly, moving his hips gently. Apparently, even though he was a prisoner, he was being treated humanely -- for now. With a snort, he continued his task while the officer panted harshly and said, "You have the right... to scream, if you dare. Anything you say... will be used against you, and you will be sorry if... you cross me.

"God!" the officer suddenly shouted, pulling away. "Don't want to end this too soon, Curly," the officer said, roughly pinching the head of his own wet cock. The man huffed out a steeling breath before he grinned down at his prisoner. "Nice, Chief. Very nice," the officer said, stroking his arm and shoulder before the officer's fingers found his nipple. Twisting, the officer smiled when he gasped. Shoving him to his back, the man leaned over and bit the hardened nub that he still held in his fingers, eliciting a scream from him. The other nipple was treated to the teeth, and again, he cried out from the mixture of pain and pleasure.

"I like when a prisoner makes his preferences known, but you are much too vocal." From the nightstand, the officer picked up a red and white bandanna, and after twisting it into a long strip and tying it so that there was a golf-ball sized knot in the middle of the strip, it was slipped around his head, and the gag was tightened into place.

Of course, he tried to speak, but his words were unintelligible, and his cries would definitely be muffled by the cloth. He lay on his back, his hands trapped under him, his mouth gagged and his nipples on fire. He glanced down at his body. The nipples were peaked and red. His cock, rock hard, drooled constantly. The officer noticed the fluid pooling on his belly and leaning down, sucked the slit of the dripping cock, making him cry out against the gag and thrust his hips upward. God, but he was pathetic, begging for more.

"Like that, prisoner?" Fingers explored his balls, pulling down on the sac. "No coming too soon, little partner." Another bandanna appeared; this one was wound around his scrotum, forcing his balls to the bottom of the sac. He groaned, shuddering at the feeling. He ached for release, and he mindlessly thrust his hips, seeking friction. When the officer rose and turned away, he kept his eyes on the man while he rolled to his side, wantonly rubbing his aching shaft on the blankets.

The officer turned to waggle a stern finger into his face. "No way, Tonto. You're not getting your rocks off yet. Not that you'd have much luck with the way I've got you lassoed." The officer laughed, tugging on the bandanna wrapped around his balls before he was flipped to his stomach and pulled down to the bottom of the bed so that the tips of his toes hit the floor and his cock hung heavily between his legs with no source of friction within reach.

He moaned deeply, wiggling frantically; the officer laughed heartily and smacked the upturned globes of flesh. He cried out against the gag, his cock straining even more. The officer laughed again. "You are such a slut," the officer said. "You like when I smack you. You liked when I bit you. You'll like what else I'm going to do to you even more." With another deep laugh, he continued, "I'm glad I arrested you. Next time, maybe you won't be stupid enough to be caught hitchhiking in my town." The officer bit one of his ass cheeks, and again, he screamed. "Then again, maybe you will."

Wondering what other sort of torment the officer had in mind and fervently hoping it would last a long, long time, he felt his legs being raised. Craning his head to the side, he saw the officer place each leg on a chair. With rope that the man had retrieved from the pile of items that he'd placed on the nightstand, each ankle was tied tightly to the ladder back, and the chairs were shoved far apart, spreading his legs wide and exposing his most private part.

He thrashed in his bonds, knowing what was coming next. His cock ached with unreleased pressure, so aroused was his state. Still, he had an image to uphold. He kept up his protests, happily thinking that this guy was definitely a Neanderthal -- and he was damned wonderful. But he didn't want the man to know how much he was enjoying himself until later, much later. He almost snickered, but he remembered his position, so with much effort he tried to close his legs, but his efforts were for naught. In this vulnerable position, he couldn't move the chairs.

Fingers touched his body. He cried out when they breached his opening, delving deeply, pressing, wiggling, twisting, turning... Jolts of pleasure coursed through him each time the fingers hit his hot spot. He screamed before biting down on the wet material between his teeth. Relentlessly, the fingers explored. All he could do was whimper, interspersing them with muffled cries of encouragement. He tried to keep up his blushing, virginal facade, but he finally admitted that he was so turned on that it was hard to remember his role in the exchange. Right now, he wanted to be fucked, and fucked hard. He wiggled in his bonds, begging for release, both from the ropes and from the need to come. But his captor played his part well. The officer ignored his pleas until he slumped in his restraints, almost sobbing with need. He was a prisoner, and right now, there was nothing he could do about it. Furthermore, he wanted more, and he wanted it from this man. He wanted so much more...

"What did you say, prisoner?" the officer asked. "I can't hear you." The fingers moved in and out, lubed and slick, tickling his sensitive channel, bumping his prostate over and over. Mindlessly, he sobbed. The gag was removed. "Tell me what you want."

"Fuckmefuckmefuckme," he begged, hiccuping as his hips thrust wildly. "Pleasepleaseplease... I'll do whatever you want. Please fuck meee!"

"You're sure, partner? You want me to ride you?"

"Pleaseplease," he pleaded shamelessly, his entire body on fire. His nipples burned; all of his skin, especially his ass cheeks, tingled; his cock felt as if it would burst into flames if he didn't come soon. His balls ached and throbbed as if electricity was being zapped into them. He knew he would internally ignite in two seconds. "Do it now!" he ordered.

"Mighty bossy, aren't you?" the officer said, smacking his butt cheeks again.

"Yes!" he wailed, wantonly raising his ass a few inches. "More, you motherfucker! Please!"

"Saddle up, cowboy," the officer muttered, shoving into his body in one slick motion.

He screamed. Ridden hard and fast, he begged for more, begged to be allowed to come. The officer was relentless, taking him over and over until he was sweating and crying and pleading. Only after the officer's appetite was sated and the man's come was dripping from his body did his captor release the bandanna from around his balls. He came so hard that he howled...

"Sandburg! Wake the fuck up!"

Blair sat up with a shout with Jim's strong hands firmly holding his upper arms. It took him a good minute to catch his breath before he pulled from Jim's hold, realizing that they were in the motel room and that their friend was in the local hospital.

After giving Blair a concerned look, Jim rose and went to the dresser to find clean clothes, Blair grimaced as he peeled away the sweaty, semen covered sheet from his body. "Oh, man."

"Are you all right?" Jim demanded. "I had a heck of a time getting you to wake up. You scared the shit out of me."

"I- I think I'm okay."

"That must have been a hell of a nightmare."

Blair grimaced at the come spread on his belly and legs. He got up and found clean boxers in his bag, also grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. "Sorry I woke you." With a shrug, he added, "It wasn't a nightmare, exactly. It was more like an -- erotic dream."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And who was the lucky lady?"

Blair rubbed his left eye with his thumb and forefinger before he looked at his friend. "Nobody you'd know." Then he turned and walked into the bathroom to shower, leaving a chuckling Jim rambling on about the significance of wet dreams.

\--------------------------------

Chapter Fifteen

"Man, that was one beer too many," Blair muttered when Jim dragged him home after yet another round. It seemed that every police officer wanted to buy him a drink after he'd made that great tackle, managing to catch the detonator before a lot of people were killed. He hadn't expected any payback; he's done what he needed to do on pure instinct. Guess he had some protective imperative of his own. He gave a snort before he giggled.

"You'll be fine." Jim pulled off his shoes and tossed a blanket over him. "I'll get you a glass of water."

"You're pretty."

"Make that two glasses of water."

Blair giggled, waiting patiently for Jim to return. "Missed you," he said with a huge grin when his friend did indeed return, carrying a large glass filled to the brim.

"Drink this."

"Sure, sweetie." He took the proffered glass and managed to spill about half down his shirt while he drank noisily. "Thanks, honey bunch."

Jim swiped the glass from his fingers and set it on the floor. "Geez, Chief. You're a mess." Jim pulled Blair to a sitting position and proceeded to strip off the wet shirt and undershirt.

Blair held up his arms, talking continually. "Man, you are the best. That's why I love you so much. You take good care of me. Just like my mom." He glanced up into his much-loved Sentinel's face. Jim looked amused, which only spurred him on. "I've loved being here with you since the second you asked me to move in."

"I didn't ask you, Sandburg. You begged me, remember? And your week is long over, buddy."

"But you love me too much to ask me to leave. Come on, sweetie, admit it. You love me. Love, love, love," he sing-songed, flopping back.

Jim unbuckled his belt. "I love you. There. Happy?"

"Ex- Ssss- Ecstatic, Jimmy." Blair's eyes closed and in seconds, he was gone...

"Come on, Chief. Let me help you into bed."

He intently stared at Jim. Jim seemed genuinely concerned about him in his inebriated state, so he didn't have the heart to admit that he was faking just a bit. Sure, he'd had a few beers, but otherwise, he was mostly sober. But he couldn't admit that to Jim; not right now anyway. Not with Jim close and helpful. He couldn't admit to Jim that he had wanted his partner's arm wrapped around his waist, helping him up the steps. That he wanted Jim's hands undressing him and skimming over his skin as Jim took off his clothing. He closed his eyes and moaned softly.

"Head hurt?"

Opening his eyes, he nodded, pouting pitifully. "Sorry," he whispered. When Jim pulled off his jeans, his shorts automatically followed. "Oops," he quipped, glancing down at his cock before he looked up at Jim.

Jim's gaze was riveted on his dick, and he was shocked when he saw Jim actually lick his lips. "Chief..."

He froze, holding his breath, when Jim moved closer and his hand reached out. The hand moved closer and closer. His breath quickened and his cock started to lift. Slowly it grew as the hand moved closer. He could feel the heat from Jim's skin and he waited, his eyes drifting shut. "Oh, God..." He heard a thud and his eyes flew open. Jim had moved backward so quickly that he'd bumped into the wall and stood plastered to it. Jim's face was expressionless, but the icy blue eyes looked almost terrified.

With his heart in his throat, he asked, "Jim? What is it?"

"I almost... Sorry!" Jim blurted out, stumbling toward the door.

He moved quickly, sliding in front of his partner on stockinged feet and planted both hands on the rock-hard chest muscles. "I saw the look in your eyes. I know you're scared at the feelings, but I also know you want me as much as I want you! Admit it, damn you! Tell me you want me!" he shouted. Jim shook his head, his mouth moving wordlessly. "Say it, Ellison," he ordered, his hands skimming Jim's shirt.

Jim shuddered under his touch. "I- I can't."

"Why not? What can't you do? What? Tell me!" He grabbed the front of his partner's shirt and yanked on it. "Talk to me. Please, Jim," he asked, his voice softer. "Tell me what you want."

"You're drunk, Chief. I can't take advantage of that. It's not right! I'm older, and I'm your partner."

He let out a soft snort. "Jim, man, I have a confession to make. I'm not drunk. I only had two beers. I was faking."

Jim's eyes narrowed. "Why?" he growled.

"Don't go all caveman on me, Ellison," he growled in return. "I'm tired of waiting for you to make a decision, so I decided to test the waters, as they say. Make sure you were as interested in me as I am in you. And you are. I saw your face when you looked at me. You want me." He took a step back and spread his arms. "And here I am. Take a good look and if you like, it's yours."

Jim's eyes were wide and his mouth open before he clamped it shut. His eyes narrowed suddenly. "You tricked me."

He shrugged. "Yeah. So? It worked. Love and war..."

"Why you little..." Jim took a step forward.

Instead of backing up, he took a step forward also. His chest bumped into Jim's. He reached a hand up to slip behind Jim's head and pulled him closer. "I'm going to kiss you. Got a problem with that?" Jim slowly shook his head as his lover's hands moved to rest on his bare hips. "Good." He closed the last inch of space and crushed his mouth against Jim's, forcefully kissing his lover until they were both breathless. Moving back barely a hair, he swiped his tongue over Jim's lips, and tapped the tip on them. Jim grunted and opened his mouth, giving him the go-ahead to enter.

While he guided Jim backward toward the bed, he explored the depths of his lover's mouth. When the back of Jim's knees hit the bed, he pushed lightly, toppling him onto the mattress. With a feral grin, he climbed up Jim's body and once again, fused their mouths together, deeply kissing his lover until Jim was squirming under him.

Moving back to look into the blue eyes that intently held his gaze, he smiled. "Mine." Jim's wide-eyed nod was all the response he needed. He moved quickly, stripping Jim of his clothing before he proceeded to worship every inch of skin he could find. And when he sucked Jim's cock into his throat and felt the orgasm that ripped through Jim's body, he hummed in approval and came also...

The hand that appeared in front of his face held two round, white pills. With a groan, Blair muttered, "Tell me it's Sunday, and I don't have to get up."

A deep chuckle filled his ears when Jim said, "Sorry, Sandburg. It's Wednesday, and we have work to do. Take these and move your ass."

\--------------------------

Chapter Sixteen

"Have a good time, Chief!" Jim called down from his room.

"Thanks, Jim. You too." Blair closed the door behind him and trotted down the stairs.

It look about fifteen minutes to get to the ball field where Rainier's co-ed fast-pitch softball team was playing its last game of the season. Right now, the team Blair played shortstop for, the Panthers, were 14-2. If they won tonight's game against the Wolverines, they'd be this season's champs. That meant heck of a wild party, along with a shiny silver trophy and a fifty dollar gift certificate for each player from their sponsor, Thompson's Sporting Goods. The whole team was pumped up for tonight's game.

Pulling up and parking alongside the chain-link fence, Blair sat for a moment and glanced around. He loved sports, especially basketball and baseball. He'd collected memorabilia from both sports since he was in elementary school, and the fact that he was a pretty good ball player added to his enjoyment of the games. He climbed out of the Corvair, breathing deeply. The familiar smells of the ball field danced through his nostrils, among them, hot dogs and pizza, and fresh-cut grass. It was approaching dusk and the lights started to power up, illuminating the field. He especially liked playing ball at night.

"Hey, Sandburg! Quit daydreaming!" one of his teammates called. "We only have fifteen minutes to warm up!"

"Coming!" Blair called, grabbing his bat and glove, and trotting over to join his friends.

\------------------

It was the bottom of the sixth, and Blair dove for a line drive...

"Hey, Chief. Wait up!"

He stopped before the open door, glancing toward the loft's upper bedroom. Jim peered over the railing. "What's up, Jim?"

"I'm coming with you."

"I thought you had a date with Wendy tonight."

"I canceled." Jim trotted down the steps, dressed in sweats and a Rainier Softball Association t-shirt. At the bottom of the stairs, his partner stopped to tie his sneakers, looking sideways across the room. "A guy can only take so much of all that true crime bullshit. Besides, I want to see this game. You guys are smokin' this year."

He laughed aloud at Jim's exaggerated drawl. "Cool. I'd love for you to come! I didn't want to even ask since you told me you had a date."

Jim rose and joined him at the door. He grabbed his keys. "I'll drive." At his nod, they walked down the hall side by side. "You're more important than a date, Sandburg. It's not every day my partner is on the winning softball team."

"We haven't won yet."

"But you will," Jim said with a smile. "I have faith in you."

He blushed under his friend's scrutiny. "Thanks, man. That means a lot!"

\-----------------

The bar was noisy and crowded. The Panthers' players were gathered at two long tables, and the top was littered with empty beer bottles. Jim grinned, setting a cold one in front of him.

"Thanks!" he shouted over the whoops and hollers of his teammates.

"My pleasure!" Jim called back, grinning from the chair next to him. "It was a great game! You made the winning out! I'm proud of you!"

He smiled, incredibly pleased. "It was nothing!"

Jim sipped his beer, shaking his head. "Don't do that."

"What?"

"Don't belittle your accomplishment. It was a thing of beauty. You were airborne for a good three or four seconds, and when the ball smacked into the leather, it was awesome!"

"Awesome!" he echoed, embarrassed and pleased at the same time. Jim's hand clamped on his shoulder and squeezed. He grinned even wider. "Thanks," he mouthed. "Let's go home," he added, knowing that even in the noisy bar, Jim would hear him.

Jim looked surprised for a second before he nodded. "Sure, Chief."

Together, they rose and after bidding the rowdy group good night, and after the last few high-fives, they wandered out to Jim's truck.

"You okay to drive?" he asked.

"I had my limit. Two beers in two hours, and a plate of nachos, so I'm good. You?"

"Same here, plus that burger. I didn't want to -- dull the happiness."

Jim smiled. "I understand." When they were in Jim's truck, he turned on the overhead light and said, "Open the glove box, Chief. There's something in it for you."

"Really? Cool." He reached in and extracted the small box. It was taped shut, so he carefully peeled the tape off before opening the box. Carefully, he removed the contents. "Oh, my God! A '69 Topps Reggie Jackson!"

"It will finish your set. It's the same year you were born. I knew -- you were trying to complete it, so..." Jim shrugged.

"Jim, man. It's too much."

"Happy Birthday, Blair."

He felt his throat close and he swallowed hard. Turning toward Jim, he said seriously, "Thank you so much, Jim. This means more to me than you know." Intently examining the card, he added, "It's so beautiful."

"So are you."

He turned slowly toward Jim. "I am?"

"Yeah." Jim glanced down, picking at the upholstery with a fingernail.

"Jim..." He slid across the seat until he was beside his companion. "I- I don't know what to say."

"Nothing. I don't expect you to say anything. Just -- enjoy the gift."

He was quiet for a moment before he finally admitted, "There is something... Jim, I love you. Really love you."

Jim's head snapped up. "Blair?"

"You gave up your date for me. You bought me this great gift. You came to my game. Hell, you share your life, your home with me. You're -- wonderful." He threw his arms around Jim's neck.

Jim laughed, hugging him tightly. "Love you too, Chief."

When they finally parted, he said, "Let's go home, Jim. We have a lot to talk about."

"I think I'd like that."

"Great. Drive, James."

Jim laughed, and cranked the engine...

"...burg? Chief? Come on, buddy. Wake up. That's it. Open up those eyes and look at me."

Blair blinked, moaning softly. The bright light hurt his eyes, and he tried to move his hand to cover them to block out the pain.

"Calm down, Blair. What is it?"

"Li- light," he whispered.

"I'll turn it down. Better?"

"What- happened?" Blair opened his eyes and glanced around. "I'm in a hospital?"

"Yeah. You have a concussion. What do you remember?"

"Nothing... Wait... I was going to the ball field." Blair's eyes grew wide. "Did we win?"

Jim laughed softly. "Yeah, Sandburg. You won. You also took a hit to the head with a baseball."

"I did?"

"You don't remember?"

"No. I remember pulling up at the field, but... That's it."

"Just relax. The doc will be in to check on you in a bit. They want to make sure you're okay, so they're going to wake you up every hour. I volunteered to sit with you and do the honors." Jim's face grew stern when he explained, "You're lucky, Chief. It's a good thing you have such a hard head."

Blair gave Jim a wan smile. "Thanks." He rubbed his eyes before he asked, "Where's my card?"

"Card?"

"Yeah. '69 Topps Reggie Jackson. It was for my birthday."

Jim gave a low whistle. "That's a nice gift, Sandburg. Who gave it to you?"

Blair closed his eyes, and whispered, "No one. It was just a dream. Sorry I'm rambling. I'm -- confused, and I guess I don't feel very well."

"Just rest."

"I think I will. Go on home."

"I'd rather sit here with you, if you don't mind."

Blair turned his head slightly and opened his eyes. Jim was leaning forward, worry lines creasing his forehead. He remembered his dream, and even though Jim really hadn't given him a wonderful gift and hadn't expressed his love to Blair, Blair knew that Jim, this Jim, did care for him. He could see it in his eyes. "Thanks. I'd like that." He was rewarded with a special smile, and it was with the image of Jim smiling, watching over him, that he held onto as he fell asleep.

\---------------------------

Chapter Seventeen

"So you're not taking Amber up on her offer," Jim stated when Blair walked over to his desk. He leaned back in his chair, looking at Blair with what he could only describe as amusement mixed with satisfaction.

"You are such a dick," Blair muttered. "And no, I'm not going to call her. She's a nice girl, but not the one for me."

Jim rose, laughing. "Come on, Chief. I'm done here, so let's head home."

"What about the Matthews case?"

"Simon kicked it over to Rafe and Brown. After this last case with the Iceman himself, he figured I deserve some down time. He's given me two days off."

"Oh, cool!" Blair said with a grin. "And I don't have any classes for at least three days. Want to head out to Cascade National Park?"

"Yeah. Sounds good. I have a new rod I've been dying to try out. The trout have been calling me for at least a month."

Blair laughed, and as he shrugged into his jacket, he said, "I have a new fly that one of my students gave me last year. You're welcome to it."

Jim tousled Blair's hair. "You're too good to me, Sandburg. Let's do it."

\--------------------------------------

The trout had been wonderful. Blair had savored each bite, complimenting Jim so much that he'd finally yelled at Blair to shut up and eat. But he didn't bother to hide his pleasure at Blair's praise. They ate two fish apiece, along with the goodies they'd bought at the deli on their way out of town. The potato salad was spicy, and the chocolate brownies were thick and gooey. They'd shared a six-pack of Redhook Ale that he'd been hoarding and spent the remainder of the evening talking and enjoying the crisp night air while toasting marshmallows in front of a roaring fire.

Now, lying in his sleeping bag next to Jim, listening to the gentle snorts of his friend in sleep, Blair smiled. He turned to his side and could just make out Jim's outline in the shadows. With a full belly and his best friend beside him, he drifted to sleep...

He walked down the murky alley, carefully avoiding the puddles of dirty water. As he emerged from the mouth of the dark street, he glanced from right to left. Several figures walked up and down the street, and he walked by each one, critically examining the women and men he saw. Shaking his head at each invitation for company, he walked until he saw what he wanted.

Leaning on a lamp post under a flickering light, the man rested his broad shoulder against the cold metal. He walked toward the man and when he approached, the man gave him an all-knowing grin and pushed off the post.

"Three hundred," the guy said without waiting for him to ask. At his raised eyebrow, the pro said, "I could see it in your eyes, sport."

He nodded and followed the man as he turned and walked away. For a second, he was tempted not to follow, but that was a fleeting thought. There was no way he was not going to follow that firm ass, those broad shoulders, that proud head. He trotted to catch up.

"What's your name?"

Blue eyes glanced down. "What do you want to call me?"

He looked away, chewing on his lower lip. "Jim. I want to call you Jim."

"It will cost you an extra twenty." At his nod, ‘Jim’ grinned. "We're here." The man produced a set of keys and pushed the door open, waving him through. "Guests first."

He gave a curt nod as he entered the room. He looked around, surprised at the cleanliness and tastefulness of the small dwelling. Soft light spilled onto the large bed that dominated the area. A bold coverlet of many colors spread across the mattress, and several pillows encased in matching shams were carefully arranged.

"Drink?" the man offered, holding up a glass decanter of an amber liquid. At his nod, he asked, "Ice?"

"Yes. Thanks." He took the proffered glass and sipped. "Wow. This is very good stuff."

The man's eyebrow rose. "You expected cheap hooch?"

He blushed. "No, sorry. I was just- Sorry. Sometimes I talk too much. Besides, I've never-"

The man moved closer and brushed a thumb over his jaw. "Sure. None of us have ever..." He let his words deliberately trail off, clearly conveying that the man didn't believe a word that was said about his protestations that he'd never used the services of a pro before. Before he could reiterate his truthfulness, the man said, "Payment up front, if you don't mind."

"Yeah. Sure." He pulled the wad of cash from his pocket and placed it in the outstretched hand. The second his fingers touched the cool flesh, the man wrapped a hand around his wrist and tugged him hard enough to pull him from his feet. Deftly caught in the strong arms, he was physically lifted onto the bed and dropped to his back, where he lay sprawled out, panting from surprise and more than a bit of excitement.

Hovering over him, the man he forced himself to think of as Jim said softly, "It's your dollar, Chief. Tell me what you want."

"I don't... What do you like?"

Jim stood, crossing his arms. "This isn't about me. You paid for two hours, so you get to choose. I'll take off my clothes and maybe that will give you some -- ideas."

Jim stripped slowly, carefully folding each item as he removed it, until he stood, naked and hard, before the bed. Planting a hand on each hip, he asked, "See anything you like?"

He nodded. "God, yes. You're beautiful." He looked his fill, admiring the sculpted body. Jim had strong, slim legs, a narrow waist, arms with muscles well defined, but not overly so, and a cock that was perfect, thick and full, but not too much. Just what he needed, what he wanted.

Jim grinned. "Thanks, buddy. Do you want to catch or pitch?"

"What?"

"Top or bottom?" Jim rolled his eyes. "Which do you prefer?"

"I don't know."

Narrowing his eyes, Jim's lips formed a thin line. "Are you kidding me? You're a fucking virgin?" At his wordless reply, Jim scowled. "Get your money and get out."

"No!" He rose, kneeling on the mattress. "I paid you! Now you do what you've been paid to do! Just because you're a prostitute... It doesn't matter. In ancient Egypt, prostitutes were venerated. It was normal for a boy to be taken to a prostitute for his coming-of-age introduction to sex. It made him a better man and a better husband. I need you to show me how it works. I want this."

Jim scowled again, but nodded. "Okay, Chief. I'll show you how it's done." With gentle fingers, Jim undressed him, caressing each inch of skin as it was revealed. Jim didn't fuck him, Jim made love to him. He knew the difference, and this was definitely love. Slowly and carefully, Jim woke his body to pleasures he never knew existed. Until he was crying aloud at the intense feelings that coursed through him, until Jim and he merged, and until he orgasmed twice under Jim's deft hands...

"Jim," Blair muttered, tossing his head. He woke abruptly with Jim's name on his lips. He clamped his hand over his mouth, looking around with shocked eyes. God, had Jim heard? A quick look at Jim's sleeping bag showed that it was empty.

"Jim?" Blair called, terrified that Jim had heard him moaning and calling to him in his sleep and had bolted, disgusted at his outburst. When Jim's head popped into the tent and he smiled, Blair let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Just had to water a tree, Sandburg. You okay?"

Blair grinned, his fear quickly dissipating under Jim's concern. "Yeah. I'm good. When I saw you were gone..." He shrugged.

With a hand on Blair's shoulder, Jim said, "Did you think I'd left you? You know I wouldn't do that. I just went to take a leak. Sometimes I wonder about your thought processes."

"Sometimes I wonder too."

"It's still dark. Go back to sleep."

"Thanks."

Jim harrumphed, making himself comfortable. Blair smiled, relieved that he had his friend beside him once again and returned to sleep.

\---------------------------------

Chapter Eighteen

Blair glanced around, making sure that none of their co-workers or any other police personnel were in the immediate vicinity. "Housebreaking?" he said with a laugh. "You make me sound like a damned dog!"

Jim shrugged. "You're the one who makes such a mess! You leave a trail like a hurricane, a path of destruction! But... I have to admit, I was just getting your goat. I hate those plastic covers on furniture."

Blair glared at his roomie before he let his amusement show. "For a second, there, you did have me going. Man, let's get out of here. I'm freezing!"

"Simon said we can hitch a ride back to the mainland with him. After the doctor releases you-"

"What?" Blair interrupted. "Why a doctor?"

"Yeah. Did you forget about your head? You were unconscious for at least three or four minutes. Simon wants you checked out." Jim crossed his arms, the rubber of his wet suit squeaking. "And so do I."

"No way. I'm fine! Besides, I'm starving and all I want is a good hot meal followed by a nice warm bed. No doctors."

"You did a very brave, very stupid thing tonight, Chief."

With a shrug, Blair gave Jim a quick smile. "You too, man. Above and beyond."

Reaching out to pat Blair's cheeks, Jim smiled. "We make a good team."

"Yeah, we do. Partner." Jim waggled a finger in his face, but instead of backing down, Blair grabbed the offending digit in his cold hand. "And we are partners, Jim. You know that."

Looking stern, Jim finally nodded curtly. "Haven't had one since Jack."

"I know," Blair said softly.

Simon's shout interrupted any further conversation. They hurried over to the captain, who tossed each of them a blanket and told them to climb aboard the helicopter for a ride to the mainland. Blair sat in the middle seat, huddled between Simon and Jim's larger bodies. Finally warm, and off his adrenalin high from events on the rig, he drifted to sleep...

The gun waved menacingly in his face. "Strip," the woman ordered. He vehemently shook his head. She cocked the pistol and pressed it to his temple. "Now!"

"Sandburg, do as she says." Jim's voice was cold as ice when he spoke, his gaze locked on hers. His clear blue eyes were as cold as any iceberg in the ocean.

He looked into Jim's face for reassurance. "Jim?" he whispered.

Jim tore his gaze away from their captors. "It's okay, Chief. She's not going to kill us."

"Don't bet on it," she growled, reaching out to rip the towel from around Jim's waist.

Jim stood rigidly, not trying to hide his nakedness. She laughed derisively, licking her lips. "I have to get off this rig and get me a boyfriend." Walking forward a step, she pointed the gun at Jim's crotch. "Now do pretty boy here before I make you a eunuch."

Jim crossed his arms over his chest. "Fuck you."

He saw the furious look she gave Jim before she moved past his naked body, giving Jim a lecherous look. She kept the weapon firmly trained on Jim as she passed him by. Jim's gaze followed her. Very softly, he warned, "Don't you dare touch him!"

He saw the terror flare in Jim's eyes as their gazes met. He turned his head to stare at the woman who now stood inches from him with her gun pressed against his temple. With frightened eyes, he tried to move away. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could question her, she struck. Pain flared across the back of his head and his vision grayed. He fell to the floor in a heap.

"Sandburg!" He moaned, hearing Jim's voice from far away. "Sandburg!" He'd never heard Jim sound quite so angry. "Why you little bitch!" Jim cried as he felt his partner's large hands gently cradle his head. "Let me look," Jim said, fingers touching his skull.

He cried out when Jim touched the back of his head. "Hurts," he murmured, wincing.

"I know," Jim answered. "Stay down," he added in a whisper.

"I'm -- okay," he said softly. "It's okay, Jim. Just do -- as she says."

"Not going to happen. I wouldn't do that to you. I'd rather die first."

"How sweet," she said coldly. "Well, you might not mind dying, but I'll bet pretty boy here has some objections." She latched onto his hair, pulling it by the roots. "Back off!" He felt Jim move away and a moment later, she shoved the barrel of the gun into his back. "Get up!" she ordered, pulling hard. He cried out, but somehow managed to gain his feet even while she was yanking on his hair. He grunted with pain as he swayed on his feet. Her response to his unsteadiness was to jam the gun barrel even harder into his spine. She cocked the pistol, making him flinch as the small sound echoed in the room. "I'll make him a cripple."

He briefly closed his eyes before he forced them open. He saw his partner standing before them, his hands tightly clenched. "Then you'll have to go through me first."

She gave a disgusted snort. "You make me laugh. When I tried to come onto you, you pushed me away. Same with the professor here. Sure, he wanted to have coffee and spout some intellectual shit, but when it came down to the physical needs I have, you both were more interested in each other than in me! Now I'm just making your dreams come true! Either you screw him now or he never walks again!" She jabbed him again in the back before raising the pistol toward Jim. "Now!"

With wide eyes, he watched as Jim lunged for the gun. He tried to twist away, to throw her off, but she managed to fire toward his partner. He fell to the floor with a hard thump and it was with anguish that he watched Jim hit the floor and lay still, sprawled out, unmoving, as blood poured from the wound to his shoulder.

"Jim!" he screamed, terrified that she was going to put another bullet into his partner.

His cry distracted her and she turned toward him, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. He forced his gaze away from his partner, not sure whether Jim was alive or dead and his fury burned through him. She walked a step closer and he waited. When he was beside him, he let out a theatrical moan. She smirked down at him. When she opened her mouth to speak, he struck.

His hands reached out and grabbed both of her ankles. Putting his weight behind his body, he yanked, pulling her feet out from under her. She crashed to the floor, cracking her head hard. The gun flew from her fingers and skittered across the floor.

He crawled toward his partner, pausing only long enough to grab the gun and throw it behind a large pile of boxes. Barely sparing the unconscious woman a glance, he hurried to his partner's side. He pressed the heel of his hand onto Jim's shoulder wound.

"Jim! Please! Oh man... Jim!"

Jim's eyes fluttered open. "Blair?"

"Right here, man. You're okay. Relax. I'll take care of you."

"Where is she?"

He cocked his head. "Unconscious. Or dead, maybe. I don't care." He pressed harder against Jim's wound, leaning his weight into it to staunch the flow of blood. "We need to get you some help."

"Good idea," Jim said with a grimace. "Hurts like a son of a bitch, but it's not bad. Didn't hit anything vital."

"How can you...? Oh, right. Sorry." He almost smiled. "I'm glad you're alive." He grabbed one of the two towels that Jim had been using, from the floor where they lay in a heap and pressed it onto the shoulder wound. "Hold this. Are you sure? It looks bad."

With what he could only describe as a pleased smirk, Jim held the towel and said, "Yeah, I'm sure. But I was actually looking forward to the "fuck or die" scenario."

Looking at his partner like he'd grown two heads, the only thing he could do was stare at Jim with astonishment. "You've seen too many movies, man. That never happens in real life."

"Oh?" Jim responded with a mischievous smile. "Want to give it a go anyway?"

"Now I know you have a head injury."

"You're the one with the head injury, Sandburg. Help me up." He helped Jim to his feet and with his arm firmly clamped around Jim's naked waist, he led his injured partner to a chair. He looked around, finding the second discarded towel on the floor and and modestly draped it over Jim's lap. "It's not the only head that's interested in you, Sandburg," Jim said wryly.

Ignoring Jim's obvious ramblings, he ordered, "Sit here while I tie her up. Then I'm going to radio for help."

"No one will answer, Sandburg. Remember we're in the middle of a class A storm."

"Oh, right. Then I'll get you to the medic."

"I'd rather you doctored me up. I like your bedside manner a lot better than that medic's."

"Jim, even hurt, you are incorrigible. You need a hospital."

"True, but for now, you're all I've got, and that enough for me..."

"Sandburg!" Simon's firm hand shook Blair roughly.

"What?" he answered, blinking stupidly.

"Out." Simon pointed to the open door of the helicopter, where Jim stood waiting.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked, leaning in through the open door.

"Yeah, I'll live. Just tired, I guess."

"Good. Because you have a lot of chores to do once we're home."

With a groan, Blair joined his roommate. "Can I have dinner first?" he asked, trying to keep the hint of a whine from his voice. He could tell from the glare Jim was giving him that he had failed.

"And a shower," Jim said with a disgusted sniff. "Do not sit on the furniture until you change clothes." He turned and started walking away.

Blair followed his partner, muttering, "I liked the "fuck or die" part better."

"What?" Jim asked, looking over his shoulder with one eyebrow arching, a questioning look on his face.

"Nothing, man. Just another weird dream."

"Okay, Sandburg. Let's get that equally weird head of yours checked out so we can get home sometime tonight. There's plenty of time for even more weird dreams in your own bed later on."

\---------------------------

Chapter Nineteen

"Your mother get off okay?" Jim asked when Blair walked into the loft.

"Yes, she did. Her plane left right on time. Thank goodness."

"I thought you wanted her to visit."

"I did. I enjoyed the visit a lot, it's just... I really didn't expect her to actually come on to you."

"Sandburg, she was only flirting. Besides, I'm not interested. It would be too -- strange to date your mother. It feels almost like -- incest."

At Jim's grimace, Blair had to laugh. "I actually understand. Men always flock around Naomi. It's been that way since I can remember."

"She's an attractive, confident woman. That attracts a lot of guys."

"You included."

Jim shrugged. "Yeah, but like I said, it would be too uncomfortable."

"I wouldn't have said anything to make you uncomfortable, Jim. If you and she had decided to... You know."

"Not for me, Chief. For you. I knew it would make you uncomfortable."

Blair blinked slowly while Jim's words sank in. "Oh! Gee. Thanks. I appreciate it." He smiled, feeling much better since he'd come home to find Jim and his mother sprawled on Jim's bed, eating tongue and looking at his childhood pictures. "When I came home, I kind of thought... Sorry."

Jim smiled and walked over to Blair, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I wanted to see the pictures because I'm interested in you, Sandburg. Not in your mother. You're my friend, and I wanted to know what you were like as a kid."

"Really? That's kind of -- nice." Blair rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. He returned Jim's smile with one of his own. Jim gave a chuckle before he grabbed his jacket from the coat hook.

"You going out?" Blair asked.

"Yeah. Simon called. Rafe has the flu, and they need a relief on the stakeout over at the old brewery. There's a solid lead on that shipment of spare parts, and Simon wants this guy busted ASAP."

"Want company?"

"Sure. If you want to be bored senseless for the next eight hours, and drink cold coffee. Not to mention freezing your butt off."

"I couldn't think of a better way to spend my time."

"Come on, then. We'll drive though Mannie's and pick up something to eat. My treat."

Three hours later, with the Philly cheese steak sub and the hot coffee happily settled in his stomach, Blair leaned against the door of Jim's truck and drifted off to sleep with Jim's soft breathing in sync with his own...

"I haven't seen a movement or heard a thing for six hours, Sandburg. This is definitely a boring stakeout." Jim rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Coffee?"

"No, thanks. If I drink another ounce, I'll go into a caffeine coma."

He snickered softly. "When's the relief scheduled to take over?"

Jim hit the small light on his watch. "One hour, forty-two minutes. Just enough time."

"Enough time?"

"Yeah," Jim said softly, sliding over toward him. "I know why you came along, Chief. Isn't it about time you admitted it to me?"

"Admitted what?" he asked innocently.

"How you feel?"

"Jim, man, what are you talking about? How I feel about what?"

Jim moved even closer until their thighs touched. "How you feel about me."

When Jim pressed himself yet closer, he gasped, "Aren't you supposed... to be... Jim!" Warm lips touched his ear before an even warmer tongue flicked into the shell. "Hey!"

"Relax, Sandburg. The guy's still in his office, sawing logs. He's not going anywhere. And I'm tuned in, just in case."

"God, Jim!" he said with a sigh when Jim's lips latched onto his ear lobe and sucked on the ticklish flesh. He wiggled his shoulders at the delightful feeling. "What's gotten into you?"

"I hope you will."

He turned his face toward Jim, blinking in the dim light. "You hope I will?" he echoed.

"You seem surprised," Jim murmured, laying a gentle trail of kisses along his jawline before a finger directed his face toward Jim's. The feather-light touch of his partner's lips against his had him moaning softly.

"I've been hoping for a while now, but..." His words were lost when his lover's mouth captured his. He closed his eyes, slipping his hand around Jim's neck, fingering the short hairs there. "Hmmmm," he murmured, parting his lips in invitation.

Jim grinned against his mouth. "I thought you'd never ask," Jim said breathlessly.

"Oh, I'm asking. Definitely."

"And I'm answering..."

"Answer that, Chief."

"Huh? What?" Blair muttered, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"Your phone. It's ringing. Or should I say, it's vibrating. I can feel it clear over here. The entire seat is shaking. It's probably your mother. She wants to make sure you're not still hanging with jack-booted thugs like me."

"Jim, there's nobody else I'd rather hang with. Guess I'd better get fitted for my own boots." With Jim's quiet laugh echoing in his ear, he answered his phone.

\----------------------------

Chapter Twenty

"Man, I'm wet clear through to my underwear," Blair groused, shaking his head.

"Hey! Watch it. Just because you're dripping wet doesn't mean I have to be." Jim held up a hand to avoid the worst of the water flying through the air.

"Sorry," he said dejectedly. "Guess I'm all screwed up tonight."

Jim's face took on a softer look. "No, it's me who's sorry. I should have seen that coming."

"What? How in the hell could you have known that Maya was playing us?" Blair gave a snort. "I'm such an idiot."

"No more than me. I fell for it also. Hell, everybody deserves a second chance. She blew hers big time. Her loss." With Jim tugging on his arm, he followed until they reached their apartment.

"Her loss?" he echoed.

Jim nodded. "Yeah. You're a nice guy. Smart, kind of okay looking..." Jim gave Blair a smirk. "Really. Hard working. Her loss. You deserve better."

"Geez, Jim. Thanks..."

"Save it. Just telling it like it is." While they both shed their wet shoes, Jim said, "Go and take the first shower. You're the one who was hurt. Not to mention cold and wet, and afterward, I want to change that bandage on your forehead for a clean one."

Blair looked up into Jim's warm eyes with a small smile as he leaned on the wall to untie the wet laces on his shoes. His partner was being really considerate tonight, almost as if he cared. Blair smiled to himself. "Thanks."

"It will get better, Chief. Trust me on that," Jim called to Blair's retreating figure.

"I know," he responded over his shoulder. After he'd gathered clean sweats, he went into the bathroom and turned on the taps. Letting the steam build, he used the john before he climbed under the hot spray. With a relieved sigh, he closed his eyes...

"Move over, Chief."

"Wondered how long it would take before you joined me," he murmured approvingly. "God!" he cried when Jim's warm body pressed against his back, the already hard cock nudging his crack. He spread his legs, moaning softly when Jim's strong hands tugged him back until he leaned against the toned body. His lover's fingers stroked his furry chest and toyed with each nipple, making him wiggle at the playful touch. "I love when you touch me."

"Love touching you, Blair," Jim whispered, kissing the outside of his ear. "Love everything about you."

Jim's hand examined his cock thoroughly. A gentle fingernail stroked down his length, making him shudder. A tip of a finger tickled the slit before moving again along the thick flesh to fondle and lightly roll his balls with a firm hand.

"Jim!"

"Shhh. I'll take care of you. Just relax."

Nodding, he leaned back, letting Jim's strong arm across his chest hold him up while his partner's strong hand pleasured him. He kept his eyes closed, biting his lip while the sensations coursed through his body. The familiar feeling curled in his belly. When his lover's voice encouraged quietly, "Come for me, Blair," his mouth fell open and he orgasmed over Jim's fingers. "Nice... very nice."

He almost preened at the approval in his lover's voice. "Jim. God, I love you!" He sighed happily, relaxing in the strong embrace before he turned and said, "My turn..."

"Sandburg! Come on, buddy. It's been half an hour. It's my turn."

Blair blinked dazedly, his hand on his limp cock. "Sorry, Jim! I'll be right out!" he called, quickly turning off the water. Grabbing his towel and briskly rubbing his body, he added, "I think I was zoned!" He could hear Jim's chuckle through the closed door, and he had to smile. "I'll fix us something to eat," he said while he pulled on his sweats, "while you take your shower." He yanked the door open.

Jim gave him a fond exasperated shake of the head. "You're such a dork."

Blair grinned. "Yeah, I know. Tomato soup and grilled cheese okay?"

"Definitely. I want mustard on my sandwich."

"It will be ready by the time you're done." His smile never faded the whole time he fixed dinner for himself and his partner.

\--------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-One

"Things are never as black or white as we want them to be." Jim looked over at Blair, who looked back with a raised eyebrow.

"Care to expound on that?" Blair asked.

"Well, take us."

"Us? How's that?"

"We're as different as black and white. I'm a cop. I'm ex-military."

"And I'm a hippie throwback to the sixties."

"Exactly. And we seem to have found a way to cohabitate peacefully."

"True," Blair said, thoughtfully chewing on his bottom lip. "We do seem to have found our middle ground. We both like a lot of the same things."

"Basketball. Cuban food."

"Women."

Jim laughed. "Sometimes."

Blair turned wide eyes toward Jim. "Sometimes?" He almost choked on the word.

"Yeah. I mean, we all look."

Blair frowned before he asked, "Look at what?"

Jim snorted. "Geez, Chief. You are so damned funny sometimes. Men, of course."

"Men?" This time his voice did break, making Jim laugh.

"What? You've never -- played for the other side?"

"And you're telling me you have?" Blair demanded, his eyes narrowing at Jim's obvious astonishment at his innocence.

"A gentleman never tells. Unlike some people I know, I avoid obfuscations and/or that male bonding ritual, which you call B.S. I call it bullshit. Might as well call it as I see it, Chief."

"You don't believe in B.S.?" Blair asked, wishing he had a pen to take notes.

"I believe in the truth."

"Me, too. I was just spouting bullshit myself back there."

Jim turned to glance at him briefly before his eyes returned to the road. "I expect no less of you, Sandburg."

Blair smiled. "You have my promise."

"So how about we go and shoot some baskets?"

"It's a date."

\---------------------

After the harrowing week they'd had with the church bombings, Blair was more than ready for some down time. He was happy that Jim had suggested that they relieve some of the week's tensions by playing for a while. He and Jim shot baskets for about an hour before they were tagged for a game of pickup with some of the local guys who hung out at the ball park. They joined the group for pizza and beer and finally dragged themselves home by nine, tired but happy. By ten, they were both showered and in their beds. Blair relived tonight's basketball game, and his favorite part was how Jim and he played together. They were such a great team, he felt.

He loved how Jim looked as they played. Jim -- sweaty and serious, his eyes flashing blue fire as he signaled his partner to fake to the left seconds before he'd send the ball to the right. Blair nodded minutely, feigning the motion before his quick feet went right. The ball landed firmly in his hands, and he dribbled forward two steps before he jumped from the three-point line to drop the ball through the net, and clinched the game. Jim had been jubilant, sweeping him from the floor in a bear hug. He'd grinned so much that he was sure his face would have permanent lines. And with a smile, he fell asleep with visions of Jim flitting through his subconscious...

"Truth or dare!" he said, grinning toward his partner.

"What?" Jim answered, glaring at him.

"I called truth or dare."

"Sandburg," Jim said with exasperation, "I'm not ten."

"Chicken," he muttered. "You're the one who asked about what happened to telling the truth." He crossed his arms, staring out the side window.

"Ask your question."

He turned toward Jim and with a grin, he said, "Truth. Have you ever slept with a man?"

"No."

"Oh." Not the answer he'd been expecting.

"My turn. Dare."

When Jim didn't go on, he leaned forward in his seat belt. "It's your turn."

Jim glanced over before he looked forward. "Dare. I dare you to give me a blow job."

"What?" he said loudly. "No way!"

"I win."

"Hang on a sec. Are you serious?"

He couldn't decipher the expression on Jim's face, but his partner did nod and he said decisively, "Totally."

Swallowing hard, he paused. Why was he hesitating? He'd wanted Jim for months now, and this was the open door that he'd been looking for, hoping for. Jim wouldn't have dared him unless he wanted this. Unless Jim was obfuscating, giving him a line of bullshit to see the lengths to which he was willing to go to win. What if he agreed to the dare and his friend kicked him out on his ass? What if he didn't agree to the dare and Jim still kicked him out on his ass? He considered the alternatives when he reached the obvious conclusion: take the dare. At least he'd have his mouth on his partner's cock once in his life.

"When and where?"

"Some place neutral... Morrison's Point."

"Lover's Lane?"

"Got a problem with that?" Jim asked, a pleased smirk on his face. When he shook his head, Jim added, "Now."

"Okay," he whispered.

Jim pressed on the accelerator, which made him further examine Jim's request. Apparently, from the speed with which his partner was driving, this was something that he was anticipating.

"Why don't you use the siren and lights?" he quipped.

"Good idea," Jim responded, reaching for the toggle on the truck's dashboard.

He let out a gasp and quickly clamped a hand around Jim's wrist. "You wouldn't!"

Jim grinned. "Just kidding."

"Asshole."

"Nah. Just a blow job."

"Jim!" he said, shocked at the blatant words.

Jim snickered, pulling into the side road that lead to Morrison's Point. He glanced around. "We have the entire place to ourselves," he said, pulling into the wide, tire-track filled area. Jim gave another perusal of the area before turning off the truck and leaning back against his door. This partner snaked an arm along the back of the seat and stretched out his long legs. "I'm all yours, little buddy."

He rolled his eyes. "Smart ass."

His fingers reached for Jim's fly, and when they touched the tab on the zipper, Jim said, "Careful."

Nodding, he tugged on the zipper pull. Nothing happened, so he tugged again before he yanked.

"Sandburg!" Jim complained.

"It's stuck...!"

"Sandburg!" Blair's eyes flew open. Jim stood in the doorway, dressed in his boxers, holding out a pair of pants. "It's stuck!"

Blair glanced at the alarm before he practically launched himself from the bed. "Oh shit! Damn it! I thought I hit the snooze! I must have turned off the damned thing instead."

"We're definitely going to be late. Simon will kill us, and I have absolutely no problem throwing you to the wolves." While Blair raced around, grabbing clean clothes, Jim held out the khakis toward Blair again, stating helplessly, "It's still stuck!"

Blair stopped in his tracks, staring at the pants before he started to giggle. The giggles dissolved into laughter and soon, he was laughing so hard that he'd collapsed back onto his bed, holding his stomach.

Jim gave him a disgusted glare before he threw the pants onto Blair, who plucked at the material with shaking fingers.

"Move it, Sandburg," Jim growled, stalking from the room amid Blair's gales of laughter.

"Sorry, man," Blair called after him, hiccuping. "I'll fix the pants. Just... give me a sec." Working on the uncooperative zipper, Blair couldn't help but continue to chuckle at the strangeness of his unconscious mind. "You're heading for the loony bin, Blair," he told himself before the laughter started back up again.


	2. Chapters 22 thru 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two of Story...

\------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-two

Blair gave Margaret a small smile as he slipped passed her. He refused to turn and look at her -- and Jim again. He'd given his blessing and left. He had no other choice. Just like the good friend he was, he did what was expected of him.

Blair snorted derisively at his own stupidity. Of course, Jim was interested in Margaret. She was smart, capable and attractive. The kind of woman Jim needed. Not those tall, leggy red-heads or buxom blondes or sharp-daggered brunettes, none of whom had enough sense to get out of their own way. He needed Margaret, so Blair had provided Jim with what his friend -- his Sentinel -- needed. What else could he do but make his best friend, the person he loved most on this Earth, happy?

A sudden dizzy spell struck. He froze on the step, reaching out automatically to brace himself so that he didn't tumble down the stairs. Sinking to his backside, he listed sideways, curling his arm on the upper riser so that he could rest his head on it. Blair hadn't told Jim about the dizzy spells that had been plaguing him since he left the hospital four days ago. They didn't happen frequently, but this was the third one in so many days. They struck suddenly, leaving him nauseous, with that irritating golden glow framing anything within eyesight. The doctor had said he might suffer some residual effects since Golden was a substance whose side effects were unknown, and the doctor had been correct. Damn it anyway.

Blair started when he heard sharp footsteps on the stairs. He tried to rise, but the nausea slammed into his belly. With a quiet moan, he stayed where he was, unable to move at the moment.

"Blair? Are you okay? You look decidedly ill."

Blair glanced up into the friendly, concerned face of Mrs. McNamara, who lived in 205. "I'm okay," he said to the older women.

She gave him a look that clearly indicated her disbelief at his reassurance. "Why aren't you upstairs taking it easy? Detective Ellison told me that you'd just been released from the hospital! Terrible business, that Golden. I read all about it in the paper." She walked up to him and touched his arm. "I'll help you upstairs."

"No, thanks. Jim has -- company."

Mrs. McNamara raised an eyebrow. "He's entertaining, is he? Well, then. Come along. I have an empty sofa in my apartment. You can rest there."

"I was going to go down to The Mayan... There's a double feature," he protested weakly.

"And you thought you'd hide out there until Jim's lady friend left?" She stood, hands on her hips. "What if she stays the night? You can't sleep in a movie theater. Not with your health to consider." Mrs. McNamara tapped her cane on his shoe. Blair almost smiled. He thought she carried it for the sympathy factor since she rarely used it to aid with her walking. "If you can't get up under your own steam, I'm marching right up these stairs and getting Jim to come and fetch you."

"No! No, thanks. I'd like to come to your place." He rose slowly, using the wall for support. Giving his rescuer a wan smile, he said, "Thanks."

"My pleasure."

Together, they managed to walk up the few steps to the second floor landing and down the short hallway to stop in front of her door, where Mrs. McNamara opened it while Blair leaned against the wall. Once the door was open, he forced himself to walk into her apartment under his own power, carefully placing each foot down while his world spun wildly around him.

"Oh, God," he muttered, putting his hand over his mouth. A pan suddenly appeared before his eyes while a hand pushed him onto the sofa. Blair retched into the pan, his eyes tearing. When he finished, a wet washcloth replaced the pan, which he took gratefully, wiping his face. "Thank you."

"Drink this, honey. It will settle your tummy."

Blair sipped the liquid. The cool, minty concoction felt good on his throat, and it did settle nicely, for which he was eternally grateful. He handed the glass back to the hovering woman. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me every two seconds. Lie back... Wait. Let's get that jacket off first." Mrs. McNamara unbuttoned his jacket and helped him out of it. He lay back on the sofa with one of the plump cushions under his head. "I'll get those shoes off."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Blair," she said warningly, waving a finger in his face. "No more apologies or thanks. That's what friends are for, as the saying goes. You and Jim have helped me plenty of times."

He gave her a ghost of a smile. "You're wonderful."

"And you're ill." She covered him with a quilt. "Now you just go to sleep. When you wake up, if you're feeling up to it, I'll fix you a bowl of soup."

Before he could thank her again, he slid into sleep...

He leaned against the wall in the stairwell, breathing heavily. His stomach churned, and his face broke out into a sweat. His forehead touched the rough wall, a small piece of wood pricking into his skin.

"Blair?"

He brought up his head too quickly. Swaying, strong hands grabbed him before he keeled over and crashed down the last few risers. He was held up by the arm wrapped around his waist and the hand clamped on his upper left arm.

"Whoa, whoa. Sit..."

Lowered to the floor, he sat, dazedly blinking. His eyesight wavered, the golden shadows dancing along the rough edges. "Jim?" he whispered.

"Right here, Chief."

A firm hand touched his hair, resting for a moment before it stroked. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Why?"

"For... everything," he blurted out. Swaying again, he groaned and started to slip sideways. The arms returned, cradling him. He stiffened momentarily, but Jim's firm voice assuaged his trepidation.

"Relax, Sandburg. I've got you."

"Jim."

"Right here. We need to get you upstairs."

"No," he said, his voice cracking. "No, no."

"Blair, don't fight me on this. You're still sick, and either it's back upstairs or I'm calling an ambulance."

He managed to nod. Jim manhandled him to his feet. "Can walk," he said.

"Sure you can."

He stared down at his feet, which refused to follow his commands. "Can..."

"Blair, listen to me. Can you do that? Can you listen to me?"

"Yup. I hear you. You look funny," he said, tipping back his head, which only made his vertigo kick back up. "God..."

"I'm going to carry you."

"I can walk."

"So you said."

He didn't know what happened, but suddenly, he was flying. He could see the stairs as they passed by his eyes, but they looked upside down. And for some strange reason, he was looking at the backs of Jim's legs. He watched as Jim's heels moved up and down as he hiccupped. "Your shoes are all golden," he blurted out. "Floor is too." His world swayed and moved, and the pressure on his stomach built. "Going to be sick," he warned.

"Hang on!"

Just as quickly, he was plunked down on the floor. Blinking blearily, he realized that there was a toilet right in front of him. He nodded. "Good thinking," he said then heaved. Jim's hands were there again, holding him until he was finished emptying his stomach.

"Done?"

"I think so."

"Let's get you to bed."

"Okay," he whispered. "I feel like shit."

"I'll take care of you."

He managed a wan smile. "Love you, man." A wet cloth washed his face. Strong hands helped him up again, undressed him and guided him down between cool sheets. The light was dimmed and when the hands returned, they helped him drink a little bit of cold water.

"The doctor said you could have some episodes. Guess this was one of them."

"Don't like playing games."

"What?" Jim asked.

"No more blind man's bluff. Please." He made himself focus on Jim. He could tell that his friend was confused about his words. Now that he thought about it, even he was confused about his own words. "Don't want to play," he insisted, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

"Okay, Blair. No more games."

With a satisfied nod, he asked, "What about -- her?"

"Margaret?"

"Yes." His voice was so small, but he didn't care.

"I -- sent her home. I wanted to be with you, so I explained it to her. We're going to just be friends."

"Really?" Jim's cool hand brushed against his forehead. He reached up and took it in his own, holding tightly.

"Yes, really. So you sleep, and I'll be here if you need anything." Jim's free hand covered their clasped ones.

With a deep sigh of contentment, he nodded. "'Night."

"Good night, my love. I'll take care of you..."

Jim's hand on his shoulder woke Blair from his restless sleep. "Blair?"

"Jim. Hey." With a glance, he remembered that he was at the neighbor's... and why. Remembering the reason -- Margaret and Jim -- made him close his eyes and wish everything could be different. He let out a tired sigh.

"Come on, buddy. Mrs. M. said you were feeling sick. Let's get you home so I can take care of you."

"What about Margaret?" Blair asked, sitting up with Jim's help. He rubbed his eyes before he crossed his arms over his chest.

"She's gone home, Chief." Rising from his crouch beside the sofa, he helped Blair to his feet. "Thanks, Mrs. M. I appreciate your taking care of my partner and for coming to get me."

"That's okay," she said with a smile, patting Blair's arm. "You just take this boy home and tuck him into bed. Keep him warm and make sure he drinks plenty of fluids. Give him something to settle his stomach and remember, he needs to get lots of rest. No doing whatever you two do for at least twenty-four hours."

Jim's soft chuckle at her orders made Blair attempt a smile. "She was a nurse, you know, Jim," he reminded his partner, wondering exactly what Mrs. M. thought he and Jim did.

Jim's voice distracted him when he said, "So it seems. Thanks, Mrs. M. I owe you."

Mrs. McNamara laughed. "Good. I have a window that keeps sticking. Maybe you can come down one day next week and fix it."

Jim slipped an arm around Blair's waist. "I'll do that. Thanks again."

"Good evening, fellas. You take care of each other."

"We will," Jim said, leading him from the apartment. On the way up to the third floor in the elevator, Jim said conversationally, "I think she thinks we're a couple."

Blair snorted. "A couple of what?" he said bitingly.

"We're a couple of good friends, Sandburg."

Blair looked up into Jim's face. His partner was looking at him with concern and care. Blair felt the warm gaze meet his, making him melt. "Yeah, I guess you're right. We are good friends."

"So as your good friend, I'm going to tuck you into bed and make you a nice cup of that stinky stuff you call tea."

"Sounds good, my friend." Walking into the apartment, Blair again asked, "What about Margaret? I thought you hit it off."

Jim guided Blair into his bedroom. "We did, and I might see her again, but today wasn't the day. I felt -- funny about it when you left, and I see I was right. I thought you were feeling off. How's your stomach?"

"Okay, I guess. Still a bit shaky."

"The eyesight?"

"Those stupid, annoying, irritating golden halos."

"I hear you."

Blair chuckled as Jim helped him into bed. "I guess you do," he admitted. "You and me, little buddy."

"I am not an ape," Jim said with a glare.

Looking into his friend's face, Blair smiled. He liked the way Jim looked down at him, with a mix of exasperation and affection, but also relief that he was home, right where he belonged. His dream might not be exactly true, but this was pretty darned close and very nice anyway. Jim cared, and for that, Blair was content. "He was much cuter."

"You are a putz."

"I know. Now about that tea..."

\------------------------

Chapter Twenty-three

"Let's try that new ability again, Jim!" Blair said enthusiastically, standing before his friend.

"Sandburg, you make a better door than a window," Jim groused, leaning sideways to see around Blair. "I'm trying to watch the game."

"Man, we need to work on your senses! This is important!"

"Later, Chief."

"Now, Jim." Blair reached for the remote, but Jim was quicker.

Jim held the remote that he had grabbed aloft, but from his seat on the sofa, he was at a disadvantage. Blair launched himself forward, using both hands to grab Jim's arm. He laughed, wrapping one arm around his partner's and pinning it to his body while his free hand latched onto the remote. Jim retaliated by twisting sideways and digging his fingers into Blair's stomach, tickling him through his shirt.

"No fair!" Blair chortled, giggling as Jim yanked him down onto the sofa and pinned him to the cushions by clamping a large hand around both of Blair's wrists.

"All's fair in love and remotes, Sandburg."

"Did you just make that up, Ellison?" Blair asked, looking up at Jim with a grin.

Jim returned his grin with one of his own. "You are such a smart mouth."

Suddenly, Jim became very serious. Blair held his breath while Jim's eyes raked over his face and upper body, only to return upward and stop. Blair was sure that Jim was examining his mouth. He panted slightly from their exertions, his mouth partly open, while he intently watched Jim. For a second, he would have sworn that his friend was almost -- interested in his lips. He nervously licked them before he said, "Jim?"

"What?" he answered quietly.

"You're kind of heavy."

"Oh. Sorry," Jim rose, and reaching out a hand, he helped Blair sit up. "Now about those tests...?"

"Forget it. We'll work on them another time. Watch your game."

"You sure?"

Blair smiled. "Yeah. Who's winning?"

Jim happily sank onto the sofa beside him, making himself comfortable. "Jags, 54-34."

"Cool."

"So what do we have to snack on?"

With an exasperated shake of his head, Blair asked, "Do you ever not think with your stomach?"

"Not often," Jim retorted.

Laughing, Blair asked, "Popcorn okay?"

"Yeah, especially if you sprinkle some cheese on it."

"Your wish is my command." Blair patted Jim's arm and went to the kitchen to make their snack.

They amicably shared several bowls of hot cheesy popcorn, along with a couple of cans of soda each, and when the Jags game, which they won, was over, they stayed comfortably ensconced on the sofa when the Eleven O'clock Creature Feature came on. They laughed over the antics of 'Godzilla vs. Mothra' before both men fell asleep to the sounds of monsters growling and fighting...

"You abilities are amazing," he said sincerely.

Jim grinned almost shyly. "Thanks, Chief. You have a lot to do with it."

"How so?" he asked, liking how Jim was looking at him. Like he was important and necessary.

"You keep me on an even keel. Since we've been doing these exercises, I feel more in control."

He practically preened under his Sentinel's praise. "That's my job. To help you with your control."

"You do a good job, Sandburg. So what now?"

His smile never dimmed when he said, "Well, when you piggybacked your sight to your hearing, that was a new ability. I didn't have a clue it would work, but it did. I think we should practice honing that ability."

"To what end?"

He bounced in his seat. "Just think. With practice, you should be able to use two senses at once, instead of just one. That could be extremely useful. So let's go out on the balcony and see what we can -- see." He grinned, rising quickly.

Jim followed more sedately, but he seemed interested. On the balcony, he leaned on his elbows. Jim joined him, asking, "What now?"

"Okay. Down the street is Steinman's Bakery. I want you to use smell to tell what they're baking right now."

Jim nodded and closed his eyes. His nostrils flared gently. "Okay... Cake... Chocolate cake in the oven. Bread..." He paused before he explained, "Foccacia. Tomato and cheese."

Quietly, he placed a hand on Jim's arm. "Without breaking that connection, very slowly extend your hearing along the scent. Direct it to the bakery and see if you can still smell the fragrance of the baked goods while hearing what the baker is saying. Take your time and don't force it. Rather..." he considered before he explained, "…let it flow on the scent. Like a leaf on water."

Jim's face was intent and for a minute, he was very still before his face broke into a big smile. "Oh, wow. Yeah. Bernie's asking one of the other guys for more yeast, and some fresh eggs. He's mixing a new cake batter... vanilla. I smell vanilla. The real kind." After another few moments, Jim opened his eyes and gave him a dazzling smile. "I could hear the whoosh of the gas in the oven when it kicked on!"

He smiled, moving a bit closer and putting a hand on Jim's arm. "That was fantastic!"

Jim laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "You're fantastic, Chief." Jim pulled him closer and to his surprise, his friend gave him a quick kiss on the side of his face.

"Jim!" he said with a giggle, his fingers touching the spot where the kiss hand landed. "What was that for?"

Shrugging, Jim said, "For me. For you. For us. Hell, Chief, who cares? You're my best friend. You make me feel good."

"Me, too, man. You make me feel wonderful."

"I'd like to make you feel even more -- wonderful if you'd let me." When Jim's gaze met his, it was very serious.

Nodding, he was also serious when he responded, "I'd like that. What did you have in mind?"

With a mischievous smile, Jim offered, "How about...?"

"How about those Jags!"

Blair's eyes flew open, the sound of a man's voice drifting through the living room. He blinked and looked around, realizing that the voice was coming from the television. The sports report had started on the news program, and the two newscasters on the screen were extolling the virtues of the Jags and their winning season. Rubbing his hands down his face, he glanced over at the warm body pressed against his. Jim had fallen asleep and was leaning against Blair, his head on Blair's shoulder. He knew that when Jim woke, he'd ignore their comfortable position while he nonchalantly moved away, but for now, Blair reveled in the feel of his partner being close.

He examined his partner's face in sleep. Jim looked younger and more carefree. The worry lines that often marred his handsome face were almost nonexistent. He was suddenly sorry that Jim had to deal with so much unhappiness in his life, and that his profession was one that demanded so much of him emotionally, that he was all but cut off from his feelings. While Blair knew that for Jim, it was a survival mechanism, he wished that he could sometimes protect his partner from life's cruelties; so that Jim would see and hear no evil, and that he would enjoy his life more.

Looking down at his friend, Blair knew it wasn't the first time that he wished he had permission from Jim to touch him in a much more personal way than the buddy slaps and high-fives that they often shared. He resisted the urge to run his fingers over Jim's forehead and down his cheek. He sighed with regret. But it wasn't meant to be, so, for now, he enjoyed the nearness of his partner, and stored the treasured image of an innocent, sleeping Jim in his mind and in his heart.

\------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Four

"How was the surf?" he asked when Jim came home, smiling, looking fit and trim, with his cheeks flushed red by the early afternoon chilly breeze.

Jim propped his surfboard up against the wall next to the door. "The surf sucked big time," Jim said with a grin as he patted his firm stomach, "but it was great spending a little time with Deborah. I'm starving!"

He looked at his partner from the sofa, admiring the man he was growing to love more each day. "I figured you guys would stop for dinner. Do you want me to cook? Or I can call for pizza."

Jim's eyebrow hit his hairline. "Pizza?" he asked, walking over to the sofa to lean on the back. Looking down into his eyes, Jim continued in a surprised tone. "Even after that Golden shit, you'd eat pizza?"

He laughed, admiring the shine of Jim's eyes, blue and twinkly. Man, he had it bad. "Sure. Why not? It wasn't the pizza's fault." Jim laughed deeply, ruffling his hair. He batted Jim's hand away. "So, pizza it is."

"Sounds good. Mushrooms and pepperoni on mine. And no, Deborah had something to do, so I came on home to have dinner with my best partner."

"Jim, man, I'm your only partner. Nobody else will put up with you. And no pepperoni. It's nasty. How about black olives or green peppers instead?"

With a grimace, Jim shook his head. "No pepperoni?"

"Bad for that great bod of yours. Trust me on this, Jim."

Jim's eyes sparkled with mirth even as he said testily, "That has to be un-American. Pizza always has pepperoni on it." Jim's hand squeezing his shoulder made him realize that his partner was perfectly willing to forgo the pepperoni as long as he didn't have to admit that he was willing to forgo the pepperoni.

He let Jim save face by saying, "I'll order. Go and shower."

"Okay, Chief. Why don't you light a fire?"

He smiled. "Sure. Good idea. By the time you're finished, pizza will be on the way, and the fire will be lit."

"You're too good to me, Sandburg."

He watched as his partner wandered to the bathroom, and he appreciated Jim's body walking away as much as he did when it was walking toward him. "You light my fire, Ellison," he said softly, smiling as he reached for the phone.

"What's that, Sandburg? You say something?" Jim called, poking his head out of the bathroom door to stare over at him.

"Nah, man. Just thinking aloud."

Jim gave him the nicest smile, making him wonder exactly what Sentinel ears had actually heard. His partner stared at him for a few moments before he slowly nodded. "Okay. Well... Too bad, because... I'd have said you light my fire also."

Shocked, he stared across the room at Jim. Before he could gather his wits about him to respond, Jim's head disappeared and the door closed, and the next thing he heard was the water running. With a grin spreading across his face, he said softly, "This is going to be a very interesting evening at home." He picked up the phone to dial...

"Sandburg, answer the door!" Jim called down from the upper floor, jolting Blair awake. "Pizza's here!"

"What? Oh, right," he said, stiffly rising from the sofa. He groaned as he massaged his lower back. "Man, I'm getting too old for naps on that sofa. Either that," he raised his voice for Jim's benefit, "or we need to get a new sofa! Something more comfy!" He pulled the door open and after taking the pizzas from the friendly delivery person, he handed the young guy the cash for the food and a nice tip.

"Thanks, buddy," the happy delivery man said as he pocketed the money. "Enjoy!"

Blair slid the pizzas onto the kitchen counter, and after gathering plates and a roll of paper towels, he carried everything to the living room. Moving the coffee table over toward the fireplace, he also got drinks from the fridge and a bag of chips from the cupboard. While he waited for Jim to join him, Blair lit the fire and turned down the lights. He hit the remote control for the CD player, smiling when the sounds of music they both liked drifted through the loft.

Jim trotted down the stairs, dressed casually in black sweat pants and a long-sleeved royal blue t-shirt. "Nice. What's the occasion?"

Blair sat down on the floor on one of the two cushions he'd pulled from the sofa. "Sit," he said, waving toward the other cushion. "No occasion. It's just..."

Jim sat across from Blair and opened the pizza box. As he served both of them slices, he asked, "Just what?"

"It's just... nice. You know, sharing dinner with a friend. Having a fire. Being warm and dry on a cold, rainy night." He sipped from his can of soda before he added, "Like family."

Chewing on his pizza, Jim watched Blair for a moment until he swallowed. Wiping his mouth, he nodded. "It is comfortable."

Blair looked at his friend for a moment before he realized that even though Jim wasn't saying much, being Jim, that he liked having Blair around as much as Blair liked being around. Content with their friendship, Blair nodded. "Cool."

"So how was school today?"

He felt his heart warm at Jim's interest, and with a smile, Blair told Jim about his day.

\----------------------

Chapter Twenty-Five

"Blair!"

Blair's head snapped up at the sound of his name being called. He was shocked to see that the pinched voice belonged to his partner. Jim leaned against the doorway leading into the bullpen and, from the looks of it, he was hanging onto the frame as if his life depended on it.

Blair moved quickly, lunging from his chair, which rolled backward to hit the wall behind Jim's desk with a thunk. In seconds, he was at Jim's side, his hands wrapped around his partner's arm. "What is it?" he demanded. "God, Jim..." He stared into Jim's face, which was white and sweat-covered.

Jim closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I don't... Feel bad... Sick... I'm so... cold!"

"Oh, man. Oh, man. Sit down."

"Want to... go home," Jim huffed out between shaky breaths.

"I think you need a hospital. It's from whatever shit Oliver shot into you yesterday, isn't it?" he demanded. "I knew that something like this would happen!" Blair said angrily. "If only..." His words trailed off when he saw the panicked look on Jim's face. Blair huffed out a steeling breath and after wrapping an arm around his partner's waist, he led him straight to the elevators. Jim swayed in his grasp, making Blair doubt his decision to take Jim home as he had requested, but in reality, there was little that a doctor could do for the Sentinel. This was obviously some delayed reaction to the drug that Jim had explained Oliver had given him when he had first been kidnapped, and later on, to immobilize him while he was set up as a killer. Both of those, possibly combined with something Jim had eaten or drank today, had interacted with any residual drugs still in his system. He was having a bad reaction, no doubt about it.

Blair chewed on his lower lip as he led Jim to his truck, fished the keys out of Jim's jacket pocket, and after making sure that his partner was firmly planted against the cold metal of the truck's body, he opened the passenger door and helped him into the seat. After he buckled Jim's seat belt, he snagged a spare blanket that Jim stored behind the seat and put it over him, grimacing as Jim's teeth chattered loud enough to echo through the truck's cab.

"Shit. Shit," Blair mumbled. "Damn it anyway, Ellison. If only you'd let me do what we need to do to figure out about your damned senses! But no." Blair ran around the front of the truck and climbed in the driver's side. He started the engine and pulled out, heading toward the loft. "No, you don't want to experiment," he said, continuing his monologue, "so now I don't have a clue what to do to counteract your reaction to whatever Oliver gave you." Blair glanced over at his partner, who sat with his head back and his eyes closed. "Jim?" he called softly.

Jim moaned in response. Blair put out a hand and touched a trembling leg. "Did you take anything today? Anything at all?" Jim shook his head before he groaned again. "Can you tell me how you feel?"

"Stomach... hurts. Head, too. Lights. Hurt my eyes. Hot. Cold..." He let out a shaky groan.

Blair drove as quickly as was safely possible, pondering this information. "Okay. Kind of like with the Sen-quil. You're overstimulated... Did you eat or drink anything when you went to Agent Cameron's office?"

Jim grimaced as he wrapped a hand over his stomach. "Just... some water."

Blair pulled into Jim's space in front of 852. "What kind of water?"

Jim opened one eye and said sarcastically, "The wet kind."

"Smart ass. Come on. Let's get you up to bed."

"I want to have my hair cut."

"What?"

"My feet. Next to the sidewalk. It's too red." Jim blinked, and his head wobbled on his neck as Blair helped him from the truck.

"Oh, man. Jim, listen to me. You're -- hallucinating. Hold onto me."

"You're pretty," Jim quipped, his gaze looking right over Blair's shoulder. "Blair?"

"I'm right here. Walk, Jim. Come on. That's it."

"I can swim."

"Jim, come on!" Blair practically dragged Jim across the sidewalk and with one hand on Jim's waist, he yanked open the door. "That's it. One step at a time." The elevator door was open, thankfully, so he lead his burden inside. On the ride up, he propped Jim up against the wall. "Mineral water maybe? I'll bet you drank some sort of mineral water. And it created a reaction with the residual drug still in your system." Blair tugged his partner forward when the elevator doors opened. "Almost home..." Using Jim's house key and once again keeping one hand on his partner so that he didn't take a header, Blair managed to open the door.

"It's Christmas!" Jim said loudly.

"No, Jim. It's not. Come on. Let's get you to bed."

Halfway across the room, Jim planted his feet and stood, swaying. "No. Want to sleep with Blair."

"Jim, man, you're not making any sense." Blair tugged on Jim's arm, planting a hand on his elbow to encouraging him forward.

"No!" Jim cried, yanking his arm away. Before Blair could stop him, he stumbled toward Blair's room. He tripped on the threshold and started to fall. Reacting quickly, Blair lurched forward, grabbing him as he tumbled to the floor. Together, they fell in a heap. Jim somehow landed on top of him, and after a moment during which Blair managed to catch his breath, he was surprised to see Jim looking down at him. His gaze latched onto Blair's and in a whisper, he said, "God, but you're beautiful."

Jim moved closer, and with a shock, Blair realized that Jim was staring at his mouth. Sure Jim was going to kiss him, he pushed hard on his partner's shoulders, dislodging him from his place. As much as he might want Jim to do what he seemed to have intended to do, he definitely didn't want Jim to kiss him while he was under the influence of some drug. If and when Jim kissed him, it would have to be because he was fully aware of what he was doing. Blair wouldn't settle for anything less.

Jim flopped over onto his back and lay still. Blair immediately went to his knees and patted Jim's cheeks. "Jim! Jim!" The only reaction from his touch and his pleading was Jim's loud snore. Blair shook his head and sat back on his heels. "God, Ellison, you are such a dick!" With a sigh, he managed to get his partner's insensate form onto the bed and out of his clothes before he covered him with a blanket. "Sleep it off, man. That's all you can do. And some day soon, I hope you'll share your secrets with me." With another shake of his head, Blair had to smile at the slumbering man. "I'll take care of you, my friend. You can rely on me."

Back in the living room, Blair called Simon and explained about Jim's bad reaction and that he needed to have a day or two of sick leave to recover. Then he made himself something to eat, took a shower, and after checking on Jim, made himself comfortable on the sofa. After the past few days of being shot at, running for his life, searching for his kidnapped partner, and working with Simon, he was exhausted. Not even the women's cleavage on Baywatch could keep him awake...

"Blair?"

"Jim?" He rose from the sofa and made his way in the dark to his room where Jim was sleeping off the aftereffects of Oliver's tender loving care. "You okay?" he asked from the doorway.

The bedside lamp clicked on. Jim rubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah. I'm fine. Sorry about that. I felt -- really weird earlier."

Walking over, he smiled down at his friend. "You okay now?"

"Yes. Thanks."

"Want anything?"

"A glass of water?"

"Sure thing." He left, returning quickly with a cool bottle of water. "Here you go," he said, snapping off the top.

Jim took the bottle and sipped, making a small sound of relief. "Good. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I'm in your bed."

"So it seems."

Jim glanced into his eyes. "Care to join me?"

"What?"

"Join me." Jim slid over and flipped back the covers. He patted the mattress invitingly. "Get your cute backside in here, Chief."

He grinned. "Really?"

Jim pointed at him. "And get rid of the sweats. It's going to be much too hot for sweats."

"It is?"

"Are you just going to stand there with your mouth open and your eyes bugged out or are you going to get your ass in here?"

He quickly yanked down his sweats, tossing them onto the floor. In t-shirt and boxers, he practically jumped into the bed.

Jim laughed, slipping an arm around his waist. "Take it easy, Chief. We have all night."

"Oh, man," he said with a breathy grin, watching with wide eyes as Jim's face moved closer and closer until his mouth was a mere breath away...

"Sandburg, up and at 'em! You hungry?"

"Huh?" Blinking dazedly, he skirted the edge of awareness. "Where's my kiss?" he asked.

A hand shook his arm. "Sandburg!"

"What?" Blair woke fully, grousing, "Geez, Jim, give me a second to wake up, will you?" He tossed back the blanket and rose, stalking around the sofa to face his partner. "What's wrong now?" he demanded, crossing his arms.

"What's got your dander up, Chief? All I did was ask you if you're hungry. I made some chili."

Blair rubbed his eyes before he glanced over at the table, which Jim had set with two places. A large pot stood in the middle as well as a box of crackers and two beers. "Oh. Sorry, man. What time is it?"

"About eight."

"How do you feel?"

"Great. Sleep was what I needed. Now I'm starving. What kiss?"

"Nothing, man. I was just dreaming. Smells good."

"Then sit your ass down so we can eat."

Blair rolled his eyes and smiled. "You have a way with words, man. No hearts and flowers here."

Jim's eyes narrowed. "What are you taking about?" he demanded.

"You remember that comment about the Sandburg zone? Trust me, Jim. Today was definitely a trip into the Ellison zone." At Jim's look of confusion, Blair lifted his eyes heavenward, silently asking for patience. "Nothing at all, Jim. Come on. Let's eat."

\---------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Six

Blair moved closer to Jim as they walked out of the doors of the Wilkinson Towers building. He kept pace with his long-legged partner across the wide expanse of cement, past the bubbling fountain and down the three steps to the street level. Jim's truck was parked across the street, so Blair kept himself rigidly together until they reached the truck. While Jim fished for his keys, Blair leaned his forehead on the cold metal and let out a groan of relief. Jim glanced over at him, giving him a curious look.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Guess so. Feel kind of funny after -- all that." He waved a hand haphazardly back toward the building behind him. "That almost dead drop..."

When Jim's hand touched his arm, he frowned. "Chief," he said, wrapping his hand around Blair's arm, "you're shaking."

Blair shrugged, not glancing into what he knew would be an intent gaze from his partner. He shivered, but managed to say, "It's... nothing, man. Just -- the excitement. The adrenaline fall after the high. I'll be okay." He started to push away from the truck when he felt light-headed and his world started to spin. From far away, he heard Jim's voice calling him before his world faded to black...

"Relax, Chief."

He opened his eyes, expecting to see his partner's face, forehead wrinkled with concern, staring into his. Instead, he saw absolutely nothing. "Jim?" he whispered, his throat tight with panic.

"Take it easy. You fainted. No wonder after you almost took a dead drop of thirty floors."

He reached out his hand, which was promptly enfolded in warm fingers. "I can't see!" he blurted, his sightless eyes filling with tears. "Jim!"

"Blair, what is it?" Jim's voice took on a note of panic. "You can't see me?"

"No!" he cried, the tears sliding down his cheeks. "Jim!"

"I'll get the doctor."

"No! Don't leave me!" He let out a sob, arms reaching out. He was immediately gathered into Jim's arms and crushed to his chest. "Hold me! Hold me! Jim, I'm blind!"

"Shhh." A hand caressed his hair. "It's okay. I'm here."

He could hear the panic in Jim's voice. "What's wrong with me? Help me, please!" he pleaded.

"Blair..."

"No!" he cried when he felt Jim start to move away, his arms tightly clutching his friend.

"I'm not leaving you!" Jim said adamantly. "I'm just using the call button to get the doctor. We need to see what's wrong."

"Don't leave me," he cried. A finger swiped his cheek before the hand cupped his head, holding him firmly against the hard chest.

"I'll never leave you, Chief. Never." To emphasize his point, Jim's arms tightened even more.

He shuddered. "I'm blind. I'm blind."

"I'm here," Jim said comfortingly, rocking slightly. "Shhh. I'm here."

He didn't hear the door open, but when Jim said suddenly, "He's blind!" a man's voice responded, "What?"

He realized that somebody -- the doctor? -- must have answered Jim's call.

"Did you say blind?" the unknown voice asked in a voice full of surprise.

"What the hell did you do to him?" Jim demanded. "Why is he blind?"

"Mr. Ellison, I assure you, there is no medical reason for Mr. Sandburg's -- condition, if he is indeed blind. If you'd move away, I could examine the patient."

"No!" he cried, lacing his fingers together against Jim's back. "Don't leave me!"

"I won't leave you, Chief. Never. I love you. I won't leave."

He let out a shaky breath and hiccupped "What did you say?" he asked in a rush.

Jim's tone was soft and his voice low when he whispered into his ear, "I love you, and I'd never leave you. Never. I'll always be here, no matter what. Me and you, Chief. I swear."

"Oh," he said softly. "Oh, man. Me, too, Jim. God, but I love you. I've loved you since the second I met you. But why this? Why now?" Pain lanced through his head. He cried out, stiffening in Jim's arms. His body started to shake, and the last thing he knew was that he was falling...

"Chief?"

"Oh, God! I'm blind!"

"Blair, open your eyes."

Jim's voice was stern but caring, demanding obedience, so Blair slowly opened his eyes. Blinking against the bright afternoon sunlight, grimaced when the abruptness of the light flooding his vision brought tears to his eyes. "Jim?"

"I've called the paramedics."

He glanced into the concerned face of his partner before looking around in a daze. He was lying on the sidewalk, his shoulders and head cradled in Jim's arms. "I can see!" he blurted out.

Jim's forehead wrinkled when he looked at Blair with surprise. "What?"

"I was blind! I can see you!"

Jim brushed a hand across Blair's face. "Settle down, Chief. Of course you can see. It was just the excitement of the day. After all, you were held hostage in an elevator for hours and your life threatened. Not to mention you were dropped a hell of a long way, twice, I might add. It's no wonder you fainted."

"I'm not blind," he said wondrously.

"No, Sandburg. You're not blind. You're just nuts."

"I can live with that."

Jim gave Blair an incredibly relieved look when he responded, his voice cracking with emotion, "So can I."

\----------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Did you and Micki have a nice time last night?" Blair asked, spooning scrambled eggs onto Jim's plate. "You want juice?"

"Yes, please." Jim picked up his fork. "It was good. She's a nice lady. Bright. Pretty."

"But..."

Jim dipped his fork into the eggs. "There's red dust in my food." he said suspiciously.

Blair laughed. "Jim, it's paprika."

"Oh. Okay." He chewed a forkful of eggs, nodding in approval, before he asked, "Where was I? Right. But what?"

Blair shrugged, sitting down and picking up his own fork. "Sounds like there's a 'but' in that statement about Micki."

"There's no but."

"Are you going to see her again?" Blair asked, sipping orange juice. "She likes you."

"Probably not." Jim shrugged, spreading strawberry jam on his toast.

"Jim, man, what is with you? You never seem to date a woman more than once or twice."

"Learned my lesson, Chief. It doesn't pay to get too close. Not in this line of work."

"We're close," Blair stated adamantly.

"True, but you're a guy, not a woman I'm dating."

Blair arched an eyebrow. "They don't understand about being a cop."

Jim leaned back, picking up his coffee cup. "Right."

"But Carolyn understood."

"I'm not going there," he groused. "That was different. And why all this nosiness?"

Blair bristled. "I'm not being nosy. I'm concerned. I want you to be happy."

"I am happy. So drop it. Okay?" Jim gave Blair an exasperated glare.

"Right. Dropping it," he mumbled.

"Don't play the hurt puppy with me, Sandburg. If I'm not worried about finding a permanent relationship, why should you be?"

He shrugged. "Because it's what you'd like, a permanent relationship."

"Enough with the psychoanalysis, Sigmund. Let's hit it." Jim rose and cleared his spot, putting his dish, cup and silverware in the sink. He stowed the bread, butter and jam while Blair cleaned his own place.

"Anthropologically, we all want a tribe of our own, Jim."

Jim gave him a disgusted glance before he let out a snort. "I've got a tribe, Sandburg. And if he doesn't get his ass moving, he's going to get the rest of the tribe in trouble with the head kahuna." Jim tossed Blair his jacket. He turned and grabbed his keys and cell phone from the small table.

With a laugh, Blair caught the jacket, fetched his own keys and phone, and joined his tribal member on his way out the door.

\--------------------------

"Sandburg, my office please." Simon stood in the center of the bullpen, arm crossed, when Jim and Blair entered. When Jim started to follow, Simon said over his shoulder, "Not you, Jim. Go down to Records and get me the Brinson file."

As the door closed, Blair saw Jim standing in the same spot with a curious look on his face. If Simon thought that sending Jim to the basement would keep him from listening in, he was sadly mistaken. But still, it did keep up appearances.

"What's up, Captain?"

"Sit. Coffee?" Simon asked, holding up the pot.

"Please."

As he poured, Simon explained, "Somebody had a problem with you at the Mayakovsky bust."

"What? Why?"

Simon glared. "You put yourself in the line of fire, and you're not a cop. Geez, Sandburg, how many times do I have to remind you of that fact?"

"I saved Katrina!"

"That's not the point! The point is that you are a civilian. Now if you don't want to be a civilian, I suggest you apply to the academy! Right now, you have an appointment with IA over your credentials."

"IA? I'm a civilian, remember? I don't answer to IA."

"Technically, you're right. However, if you want to continue your extended ride-a-long with Jim, I think you need to cooperate." Simon leaned forward in his chair. "Listen, Sandburg, it will probably just be a face-saving play. You did a heroic thing saving Katrina, but still, it's against regulations to have even had you on a bust! So do me a favor, and go play nice!"

Blair sighed. "Sure, Simon. It's the least I can do." He took a swallow of his coffee before he rose.

"Good man," Simon said to Blair as he left the office

The second Simon's door closed, Jim was next to Blair. "You'll be okay, Sandburg. It's just procedure."

"Yeah, man. Procedure. Sometimes I get tired of procedure." Blair let out a sigh as he walked toward the elevators with Jim close behind. "You might as well go home at the end of your shift. I'll probably be questioned all night. Procedure, you know."

"Smart ass." Jim gave Blair a playful bop on the head. "I'll wait for you anyway."

Blair turned and as the elevator doors started to close, he gave him a nod. Trying to hide his irritation, he entered IA's offices on the fourth floor and gave his name to the receptionist manning the front desk. He was ushered into an office, given a seat and asked to wait.

"Do you want anything? Coffee? Water?" the helpful man asked.

"Water would be good."

"Coming right up."

"Thanks," Blair said, glancing around. He sat quietly, and when the office worker returned with the water, he was told that the investigating officer was running late and would be in as soon as possible. "Great. Just great," Blair muttered to the empty office. He rose and paced for a while before he returned to his seat. Fidgeting for a few more minutes, he scrubbed his face with his hands. "Might as well get yourself together, Blair. Calm and assertive. Cool and collected."

Blair lowered himself to the floor and crossed his legs, placing his hands on his knees in the position for meditation. He closed his eyes and counted his breaths, concentrating intently and focusing his center...

He lay in the large bed, the bright blue and yellow striped sheets cool against his naked flesh. With his arms spread, he glanced upward to the skylight over the bed. Flakes of snow gathered on the Plexiglas, melting against the warmer plastic until the accumulation became enough to cool off the outside surface. The flakes continued to fall, finally covering the surface with a dark blanket. From his position in the darkened loft bedroom, lit with only two flickering candles, the snow blocked out his view of the sky.

He heard footsteps on the stairs and lay very still, holding his breath. He let his eyes drift close and imagined Jim crossing the room. The soft footfalls grew closer, and he couldn't help but smile. Even without having the gift of Sentinel hearing, he could hear Jim suck in a breath at the sight of his lover spread out before him. He kept quiet, letting Jim enjoy his fill while an enticing smile played across his lips. Slowly, he flicked out the end of his tongue and deliberately licked his mouth provocatively.

He felt a weight lean on the bed, and the warmth of his lover's body grew as Jim moved closer. He felt a huff of breath across his forehead and nose before Jim's warm lips pressed against his. He moaned softly, letting his lips part in invitation. The moist tongue slipped past his teeth and playfully examined his tonsils. He shuddered, his body responding to his lover's demanding mouth.

Jim moved, barely jiggling the mattress, to straddle his body. Jim's backside rested lightly on his thighs; their mouths still fused together. Finally, with a last lap of Jim's tongue on his lips and chin, Jim slid down his body, licking and tasting on the journey to his groin. He wiggled, giggling delightedly, as the skilful tongue played along his body, dipping into his belly button and laving his pelvic bones. The tongue found his cock, and with light, teasing laps, enjoyed his flesh. He shivered, moaning with pleasure. A deep chuckle reached his ears, and the tongue continued its exploration of his body.

He sighed happily. He loved Jim. Loved when Jim touched him, loved when Jim looked at him, loved just being with Jim. He wished tonight would never end. That they would always be together, just the two of them, loving and caring for each other. With a grin, he opened his eyes...

"Mr. Sandburg? I'm Sheila Irwin. We met a while back on the Pendergast case."

Blair jerked back in surprise at the face that loomed inches from his. "Oh, right! Sorry, I was meditating," he said, blushing. "I remember meeting you. You thought Jim was a killer," he blurted out.

Irwin straightened up with a sigh. "I've tried to apologize to Jim - Detective Ellison, but he hasn't returned any of my calls."

Blair rose, brushing his hands together absentmindedly. "I can pass along the message if you like."

"Thank you." She walked around to sit behind her desk. "Have a seat, please."

"Thanks."

Irwin shuffled several papers before she perused one in particular. "I've looked over the case carefully," she said, raising her eyes to his, "and I've decided that there is no internal investigation needed. Your ride-along status is reinstated."

"Really? That's great."

"Have a good evening."

Blair started to rise. "I can go?"

"Yes."

Not wanting to take the time right now to wonder about his good fortune, he hurried from the office before Irwin changed her mind. He called a good-bye greeting to the woman as he left her office and thanked the receptionist again for the water on his way out the door.

Jim was leaning against the wall in the hallway when Blair came out of the IA offices.

"Hey, Chief," he said, pushing off the wall to stand. He waited for Blair to join him.

"Hey, Jim. What are you doing here?"

Jim smiled, slinging an arm around Blair's shoulders. "Came to collect my tribe. My tribe owes me dinner. So I figure tonight is as good a night as any. Kind of a celebration."

Blair laughed, slipping his own arm around Jim's waist. "Why's that?"

"You saved a life, Sandburg. You did a brave thing. I think that earns a celebration."

"Wait a sec. If I saved the life and I did the brave thing, shouldn't you pay for dinner?"

Jim shook his head. "No."

"No?"

"You have a hearing problem, Chief?"

"No, Jim. Not at all. I'll be happy to buy you dinner," he said with a chuckle. "Come on. The tribe of two is hungry!"

Jim's laughter warmed Blair's heart, and together they headed toward the door, affably arguing about the best place in town for steak and lobster.

\-------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Until you replace your Corvair, Chief, you're stuck with me."

Blair let out a theatrical sigh. "This is a royal pain in the ass. I have things to do! Places to go! People to see!"

Jim snorted with amusement. "You're life is on the fast track."

"Don't laugh at me! I hate being without my own wheels!"

"Then why don't you just rent something until your check comes through from the insurance company?"

"Jim, I've already told you, I didn't have rental coverage on my vehicle, and Alec didn't have any insurance! I can't afford to rent a car right now. I had to pay for this semester last week, so I'm running short at the moment."

"As I said, you're stuck with me. So get a move-on if you want me to drop you off on campus. I have a witness interview to do and reports to write this morning before Simon is all over my backside." Jim shrugged into his jacket and stood beside the door, waiting for his partner. "And if you're really nice to me, I'll swing by and pick you up for lunch"

Blair gathered his books, dumping them into his backpack. "You're too good to me," he said with a touch of sarcasm. Glancing at Jim, he received a grin of satisfaction from his roomie. Giving his friend a wrinkled nose of disgust, he disconnected the laptop and tucked it under his arm. "Okay. Ready."

"Turn off the light, Chief. Electricity doesn't grow on trees."

"Ha. Ha," he groused. "Very funny. How about breakfast?"

"We'll drive through. Freddy's has two sausage biscuits for a buck."

"No way! Those are artery-clogging hockey pucks!"

Jim chuckled, and followed Blair down the hall. "Does your mother know what a smart alec her son is?"

"I'm just telling the truth. They are hockey pucks, and they do clog arteries. They leave a greasy taste in my mouth. I want real food, not that fake stuff."

"Yeah. Whatever," Jim groused. While they waited for the elevator, he stepped closer to Blair and ruffled his hair. "We have time to hit the Pancake Palace if you'd like."

"Yeah. I'd like! They have home-made strawberry waffles!" Blair grinned, hiking his backpack further up onto his shoulder while jiggling the computer.

"Give me the laptop, Sandburg, before you drop it." Jim took the proffered item. "You're such a connoisseur. Strawberry waffles it is. With whipped cream."

Breakfast was served up nice and hot, and in a timely fashion. It was delicious, and Blair was tickled that the rest of the day passed by in the same good way. He didn't have one major problem the entire time. Nobody tried to kidnap him; he wasn't hurt or threatened by mad scientists, or killer bugs or rogue agents; none of his students were angry with his lecture, or with his homework assignment, and he finished all of his grading before five pm, when Jim was coming by to pick him up.

Dinner at home was equally satisfying, and sharing it with Jim was a pleasure, as was the evening spent watching the Jags beat the Jazz. It was a normal day, something that didn't happen very often, but was appreciated when it did. Blair was in bed by eleven, happy to be able to look forward to seven hours of uninterrupted sleep. With a cup of hot chamomile tea, he went to bed to read for a while, sipping the warm brew as he lost himself in the latest best seller. Sleep tugged at his body quickly though, so he finished his tea, put aside his book, and snuggled down into the warm blankets, content and happy. Life was good...

"Help! Help" he cried, trembling in his bonds as the spiders crawled up his legs. The eight-legged creatures looked huge as they crept closer and closer, their multiple eyes looking right into his. He watched in horror and would have sworn that they communicated with each other. As a group, they moved closer and closer to the bare skin of his chest. "Help!" He tried to shake the insects from his body, but his legs were tightly bound to the frame of the chair while his hands were tied behind him and firmly anchored to one of the rungs.

His eyes grew wider as the first large red and black spider crawled across his belly. It was as big across as his hand and twice as dangerous as a hungry rattle snake, he knew. It seemed to him as if it were studying his skin, deciding where to place the first painfully lethal bite. En masse, the large spiders began swarming, and he knew he was a dead man.

The clatter of horse's hooves broke his concentration. He managed to pull his gaze away from the wicked spiders of death to see a man jump from the dazzling white horse even before it had come to a full stop. A cloud of dust rose from the animal's feet as it danced in place, and the man gave it a soothing pat before he strode toward him. The man was dressed in silky white duds from his boots to his hat, with eyes as clear and blue as The Hope Diamond, with laugh wrinkles at the corners, and with a body made for long hours of pleasure. The man's face was deadly serious, showing deep concern for his predicament and for his very life. Tipping the hat back, the guardian took in the scene in a heartbeat before unfurling the whip that he carried in his right hand.

"Looks like you need a hand, little buddy," the man drawled, snapping the whip in the air. "Just sit tight."

Before he could respond, the man's arm moved, a blur of speed, and one of the spiders disappeared. The whip cracked; he cringed at the sound. One by one, the spiders were dispersed by the man's talented hand. Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a late model Harley Davidson, the man dispatched the marauding creatures with finesse and class, not touching his tender skin one little bit. He sighed with relief and batted his lashes when his rescuer approached, winding the whip in his hands before clipping it to the spotless white belt.

"My hero," he said with awe. "You saved me!"

"That's what we Sentinels do, little Guide." The gorgeous man gave him a bright smile, showing perfect teeth.

He smiled in return as his knight in white satin untied him and lifted him from the chair into strong, well-muscled arms. He wrapped his arms around his Blessed Protector's neck and kissed him on the lips. "Thank you."

"Welcome," the man responded, grinning.

He was carried to the horse and placed on the saddle. With a mighty leap, his hero propelled his toned, lithe body onto the horse and wrapped strong arms around his waist. Together they rode off into the sunset and lived happily ever after...

Waking to the strains of Nights in White Satin from his radio alarm, Blair rolled over and snorted with amusement. "Good God, Blair. You've really lost it now. You've got it bad, and there's not a damned thing you can do about it. So get up, get dressed and get on with your life." He climbed from the comfortable bed and stretched, well rested and ready to face whatever the new day might throw at him. As long as Jim was in his life, he could handle anything.

\---------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Blair followed Charlie Spring from the bullpen. "Hey, Charlie, wait up."

The man turned. "Blair?" He smiled brightly, but his eyes were wary. "Listen... I'm sorry about Naomi."

Blair stopped in front of Charlie and waved a hand rapidly. "Yeah, I know. It's not that..." He glanced from side to side making sure nobody was within earshot, especially Jim, before he said quietly, "I need to talk to you. Privately."

"Oh?" Charlie's eyebrows hit his hairline. "You want me to do a reading?" he asked excitedly.

Blair grabbed his sleeve. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed conspiratorially. "Not here. Come on!"

Leading the way, Blair hurried into the open elevator and hit the button to take them to the street level. With Charlie in tow, they walked silently for several blocks until Blair stopped, once again glancing around. "In here," he said, tugging Charlie by the sleeve into the small, dark bar.

"Blair, it's 11 am. Way too early to drink," Charlie said with a grin.

Blair didn't smile at Charlie's obvious attempt to lighten the mood. Instead, he directed Charlie to a back booth and instead of sitting opposite him, he sat right next to him. In a whisper, he asked, "Can you swear that whatever I say will be strictly between us? Swear it on your mother's head."

Charlie's smile melted away, and he joined Blair in the serious mood. "I swear, Blair. I wouldn't betray your trust again. I appreciate the second chance you gave me when nobody believed in me. I know what it's like, being in the public eye. But sometimes, it's the private eyes you have to worry about. I owe you. You got Jim to trust me again-"

"Okay. Right. You're welcome." He moved even closer and said, "I trust you." He was rewarded with a dazzling smile from his companion.

"What is it that has you running and hiding?" Charlie's brow furled until his eyes slowly widened. "Oh! It's about," his voice dropped, "Jim."

"How'd you know?" Blair asked with surprise.

Charlie gave Blair a mildly exasperated glare. "Psychic, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, right. So... about Jim... Does he... Do you think... Or feel, I guess. What do you see?"

"Slow down, Blair. What do you want to know? I'm not a mind-reader." Charlie snorted. "Maybe I am!" he added with a chuckle. Then he put out a hand and touched Blair's arm. "Just relax and let me do my thing. Clear your mind and let me feel my own way. I'm going to touch your hand, so don't get all jumpy." Blair nodded, closing his eyes and huffing out a cleansing breath. "Good," Charlie encouraged. "That's it. You know I can't make..." Charlie's voice trailed off as Blair's mind opened...

The scene unfolded before him, much like a movie. Somehow, he knew that he was not a participant in the tableau but a spectator. Jim walked into his field of vision, dressed smartly in a killer tuxedo. His face was -- different. Instead of the usual Ellison stoic demeanor, Jim was grinning. His eyes were sparkling with unsuppressed happiness, and his body language projected joy in its relaxed state.

"Jim," he said softly. "You look so beautiful!" Jim didn't respond, of course, but mindless of his position in his own vision, he called out a bit louder, "Jim, It's me! Jim!" Still, his friend's gaze was focused on something -- someone else, he discovered, much to his sudden dismay. Sucked into the vision, he forgot his minimal status and shockingly, found himself standing at the head of an aisle in a modest church. Flowers festooned the sanctuary, while the arm of each pew at the main aisle was marked with a crisp white bow.

He realized with a sudden flush of panic that was he witnessing a wedding, and to his dismay, it struck him that it must be Jim's! He stood in shock, noticing the minister, dressed in flowing robes, white over black, standing with a prayer book in hand, with a smile on his face. Jim stood to his left, and to Jim's own left was Steven, also with an incredibly happy grin on his face. He watched in complete shock as Steven adjusted the flower in his brother's lapel and with a brotherly air, rapped his knuckles on Jim's arm in a "way to go" gesture.

"No!" he cried. "No. No. No!" He took in the woman standing to the minister's right. An unknown dark-haired woman, about his age and quite attractive, stood there dressed in a pretty blue dress. He was outraged that he could see and hear each thing, but nobody would respond to his cries. Another woman, younger than the first, stood beside the pretty woman, dressed in a similarly colored gown. Each woman held bouquets of fragrant flowers. It was so damned strange, but he could actually smell the roses!

He raced over to his partner and reached out to grab his lapels, but his hands fell into empty air. "Jim!" he cried. "Don't do this!" With a scream of frustration, he realized that this scene, this farce of a wedding, was happening, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was a wraith in his own vision. Pain lanced at his heart as he stood in front of the bridal party, his shoulders slumped, his heart pounding, each breath an arduous chore.

The soft music that he just now realized had been playing in the background grew louder. All eyes focused on the rear of the church. With clenched hands, he turned and saw her... She walked down the aisle with grace and beauty. Tall and dark-haired, her gown flowed like so much creamy white satin around her body. Even he had to admit she was a vision of loveliness. Her face was sweet and kind, and her green eyes were bright with unshed tears of pure joy. With a slam to his heart, he realized that she loved Jim, deeply and fully. And he loved her.

"Oh, God," he whispered, falling to his knees, tears flowing down his own cheeks. "Jim," he said mournfully, his ears annoyingly clear. He heard Jim speak her name. Megan... Whoever she was, she was marrying his Jim. Each word of the marriage vows as they were being shared by the happy couple drove a spike into his heart, and with a soundless cry, he clenched his hands to his head and pitched into blackness...

"Blair!"

Blair's eyes flew open. Charlie had both hands on Blair's shirt and was shaking him furiously. "Charlie?" he blurted out, his throat tight and dry.

"What the fuck happened?" Charlie demanded, his face pinched and white.

"I thought..." Charlie's hands fell away. Blair took a sip of the water that the server must have placed on the table while he was -- wherever he had been. "You didn't...?"

"I didn't what? See anything? No! I didn't see a thing! But you, my man, you were gone!" Charlie seemed almost pleased at this idea.

"You didn't do anything?" Blair asked, suspicious and shocked at the same time. "What was it, then? What happened to me?"

"You tell me."

Blair fidgeted uncomfortably before he let out a tired sigh. "I had a -- vision... I guess I had a dream... while I was awake." Blair shook his head at the absurdity of his own words and ran a hand through his hair. "What did I say?"

"Not a thing. You were all -- blank. Like you were in a damned coma or something. It was freaky."

Taking in a deep breath, he slowly exhaled before taking another drink of water. "I'm okay. Sorry to do that to you."

"What happened in your -- vision?"

"Something I don't want to happen. But is it the future?"

Charlie looked thoughtful for a moment before he explained, "I don't have much experience with visions other than my own, but just because you "see" something," he made quotation marks in the air with the fingers of both hands, "doesn't mean it's etched in stone. It could be a wish, or a desire, or just a possible outcome. What did it mean to you?"

Blair sighed deeply, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in the enclosed space. The need for fresh air and sunshine propelled him from the booth. He slid out quickly. "Not a clue what it meant," he muttered before he rose and pulled out a couple of single bills from his pocket. He tossed them onto the table. "Ah, thanks, Charlie. I'll talk to you later. Okay?" Not bothering to wait for a response, he fled. At the moment, his only desire was to totally and completely forget about the contents of the deeply disturbing dream.

\-------------------------------

Chapter Thirty

"So, Chief," Jim said with way too much satisfaction in his tone as he put the casserole on the dining table, "how did that last gift-giving experience turn out."

"Ha. Ha," Blair said grimly, resigned to be teased by his partner about his complete failure to woo Sam with his final presentation. As he set out plates and silverware, he snorted. "You know as well as I do that she hated it."

"Sandburg, in whose universe did you expect that Samantha, a rather, shall I say, uncompromising woman, would be happy with a blender?"

Blair sighed, returning to the kitchen for drinks. "I know! But Brown refused to sell me back my gift, which was very expensive and quite appropriate. And since I had mere minutes, it was too late for much shopping! I had to meet her in a few minutes, and the only stores on the block were a True Value Hardware, a Jewish deli and three stupid bars! What choice did I have?"

Jim sat down and dished up tuna casserole into each of their plates. "I would have gone for a pound of cheddar and some pastrami myself," he said with a chuckle.

"You are such a dick."

Jim dug into his food, blowing on the hot noodles before tasting. "She's a capable forensics scientist, Chief, but she's not long-term material."

Blair ate a few bites of salad before he said, "Who's looking for long-term? I'm not looking for Miss Right. I'm looking for Miss Right Now."

"Sandburg!" Jim rolled his eyes.

Blair pointed his fork at Jim. "Don't you dare say anything about my love life! When was the last time you dated a woman more than twice?"

Pouring dressing on his salad, Jim shrugged. "Point taken. But at least most of the women I date haven't tried to kill me."

"Not yet anyway," he muttered.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Take some advice from me, Sandburg. That gal is the kind of woman who will use you, suck you dry -- and not in a good way," he added with a snicker, "and then do the vanishing act. One minute she's here; the next, she's moved onto greener pastures."

"It's not like I'm in love with her or anything," Blair said adamantly. "I'm just -- keeping my hand in the game."

"Whatever," Jim answered with an exasperated glance. "Anyway, after dinner, I think I'll head down to the mall and see the new Jet Li movie. Want to join me? I'm much cuter than Sam anyway," he jibed.

Blair glared at Jim for a moment before he finally nodded. While Jim was definitely getting mileage out of his latest faux pas regarding his love life, his partner did seem more than willing to share his evening. In fact, unless Blair was dreaming, his friend seemed rather pleased that he wasn't dating Sam any longer, but instead, would be spending time with him. It might be wishful thinking on his part, but he took what he could get these days. "Yeah. Might as well. At least you won't try to burn my face off."

"I promise that is one thing I won't do," Jim said with a snicker. "And it's your turn to pay."

"My turn!" he protested.

"Yup." Jim grinned as he rose, clearing the table. "You wash. I'll dry."

Blair rolled his eyes. "You are such a putz."

Jim gave Blair a mischievous grin and a lazy shrug. "But you love me."

With a snort at Jim's silly look, Blair had to smile. "Yeah, that's true."

\-------------------------

Jim paused at Blair's door. "'night, Sandburg."

Blair looked up from his book. He took off his glasses and set them aside, smiling. "Good night, Jim. And thanks."

"For what?"

"For the evening. For going along with the change in plans."

Jim shrugged. "It wasn't your fault that there was a power outage at the mall. Besides, I enjoyed the movie. I kind of -- related to the guy. I know what it's like to feel like an outcast."

"Jim, man, you are not an outcast! You're very -- special."

Letting out a snort of amused exasperation, Jim haphazardly waved a hand. "You are nuts, Chief. Sleep well." Jim gave Blair a quick smile before he left to go up to his room.

Blair clicked off the light and lay in the dark, smiling. It had turned out to be a good night. Rather than come home after discovering that the mall had been suddenly closed down due to an electrical problem, they'd gone to a small, independent theater down near the pier which was showing, of all things, an '80s movie festival. As luck would have it, tonight's offering was Dirty Dancing. When Jim had explained to Blair's complete shock that he had never seen the movie, (I was on assignment, Chief. Remember? Rangers?) he'd convinced Jim to give it a try, and they'd spent several entertaining hours watching the movie and then going to a local diner for hot fudge sundaes, a rare treat for either of them. Happily thinking about the pleasant evening spent with his best friend, Blair fell asleep...

The strains of The Five Satins singing 'In the Still of the Night' drifted through the speakers of the old Wurlitzer jukebox. The bar was almost completely deserted; the bartender lazily wiped the counter, sipping on a cold beer. He saw that the guy was totally unconcerned about his last two patrons, so he glanced up into the clear blue eyes of his companion. Jim's hands rested on his hips, and slowly Jim moved sensuously against him. His companion's lower body rubbed provocatively against his. Letting out a small sigh of pleasure, his own hands rested on Jim's strong shoulders. With his eyes partially closed, he let the music guide his frame. With his tongue between his lips, he bent backward slightly against the pressure of Jim's body against his as his partner leaned forward to press their chests together.

Jim's right hand blazed a lazy path downward to lightly rest against his backside, and the hand pressed just enough to encourage their bodies to remain locked in a slow swagger as they ground against each other. As the music played, they moved together, the rhythm beating in time with their hearts.

He threw back his head. Jim leaned forward to touch his lips to his exposed throat. He let out a quick gasp when Jim's teeth lightly nipped the tender flesh.

"Jim!" he whispered, bringing up his head to gaze at his lover with what he hoped was a look of invitation. He must have conveyed his desires because Jim's gaze was locked onto his, and when he gave a lazy smile, Jim's face, while serious, brightened as his eyes widened in response. His dance partner intently examined his face for a few moments before he nodded slightly and gave him a beckoning smile.

Taking up the request, he straightened slowly and continued forward to lean into his companion's body, his pelvis swiveling against Jim's. As the music played, their hips swayed in unison as they continued to dance. Jim moved his feet apart slightly to accommodate his body weight and levered back a few inches, allowing him to control the dance. His hand skimmed Jim's shirt, deliberately fingering one of the buttons before slipping the tips of his fingers under the edge to touch the warm skin beneath.

"Chief," Jim whispered, licking his lips. Jim's strong arms held him close and as the song wound down, they slowly straightened up, eyes locked, breathing quickly as arousal spiked.

"Let's find some place more-" He let his desires show on his face.

"Private," Jim finished, his voice husky.

"Where?"

"Some place close. There's a nice motel down the block."

Grabbing Jim's hand, he turned toward the door. "God, Jim, I want you."

"So move it, Chief. I'm ready, willing and able."

The next tune started to play. As 'Love is Strange' began, he laughed as he tugged Jim toward the door. Walking backward, he gave Jim a sexy smile. "Come on, Lover Boy," he growled, echoing the song's lyrics.

Jim quickened his steps as he laughed also...

"Sandburg!"

Blair was once again wakened by his roommate standing over him, hands on his hips. "Huh?" he muttered.

"Will you please do something about these dreams? You're driving me nuts!" Jim threw out his hands, his face looking tired and his eyes rimmed with red.

"What now?" he asked dejectedly.

"You were singing! And from the amount of noise you were making, I'm sure the folks in the place below us will be calling the cops any minute."

Blair sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees. "That bad?"

Jim sat on the edge of the bed. "Chief, please... If there's something I can do to help, let me know."

With a sigh, Blair rested his chin on his bent knee. "No. They're just -- dreams. They're usually not scary or anything."

Reaching out a hand, Jim touched Blair's shoulder. "It didn't sound like you were in distress. You sounded almost like you were -- enjoying yourself."

Blair gave a small smile. "It was a pretty good dream. Sorry I was so -- vocal."

"How about a cup of tea? Will that help you sleep?"

Blair didn't know how to explain that, so far, he hadn't had trouble falling asleep, and that most of the time, he actually liked the dreams. Instead of going into details, he nodded. "Thanks. That would be great."

Jim rose and after ruffling Blair's hair, he went to make tea, leaving Blair to contemplate his latest adventure into the strange, but not always unwelcome dreamworld that he now seemed to inhabit each night. So far, the dreams and visions had been somewhat entertaining, with only a few unhappy ones. He hoped that if he couldn't control the dreams, that at least, they wouldn't turn into nightmares.

\---------------------------

Chapter Thirty-One

When Blair knocked on the door marked "Dr. Ray Doyle, Psychology Department Chair", the door opened and the smiling man greeted him. "Hello, Blair. Come on in."

Blair returned the smile at the friendly greeting and at his friend's obvious pleasure at seeing him. "Hi, RD. How are you?"

"I'm good. Take a seat," the older man said with a wave of his hand. He pushed back a stray lock of his curly grey hair before he also sat on another chair opposite Blair. "Long time, no see. What can I do for you today?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. You know how it goes." Blair smiled. He'd always liked RD's accent. It reminded him of old British cop shows that he used to watch long into the night when he was a kid.

Nodding, RD grinned. "Don't I though? So is this a social call or business?"

"I need some -- advice."

Dr. Doyle's eyebrow rose. "Really? I'd be happy to help, of course, but I'm just a lowly psyche professor. I didn't do that well on my anthro courses," he teased.

Letting out a chuckle, Blair smiled before moving to the edge of his seat. "It's not about school. In fact, it's personal. I'd really appreciate it if this conversation could be confidential. And this is just between friends. Is that okay?"

"Sure, mate. What has you so anxious?"

With a snort, Blair rubbed his hands together. "You can tell, huh?" At Doyle's acknowledging smile, he sighed. "I've been having dreams. Over and over. Well, not the same dream, but pretty much the same subject matter."

"Go on."

"I've been dreaming about another person. It's pretty much," Blair's voice dropped, "sexual."

Doyle nodded serious. "So are you and this -- other person currently involved."

"No."

"Would you like to be?"

Blair fidgeted. "I'm not sure. It's complicated... But I have -- feelings for this person."

"But...?"

"I'm not sure it's the right thing."

"Is this person married or in a committed relationship?"

"No, but being involved with me could very well not be good for his-" Blair's eyes widened and his hand covered his mouth. Shit, he'd said 'his'.

Dr. Doyle sat back. "Oh." He was silent for a few moments before he asked, "Is this your -- usual type of attraction?"

Images of Jim flashed across Blair's mind. He smiled involuntarily before he returned his focus to his friend. "No, never. But this feels so -- right!"

"And does -- this bloke return your interest?"

Slumping back, Blair shook his head. "He's about as straight as they come."

"You've asked him? Discussed this with him?"

Moving abruptly, Blair sat up. "No! I'd never... I don't think he'd appreciate me asking! He's... very straight-laced from what I've seen."

Doyle smiled knowingly. "I think you should talk to him. I've had personal experience in this. I don't usually talk about my private life, but I've been with my partner for thirty years, give or take, and he didn't seem to be the type for a same-sex relationship back then either."

Blair's eyes widened. "Oh! I didn't know."

"He's very private, and frankly, so am I. But I'm well versed about the prejudices regarding same-sex couples in certain professions. We were both in law enforcement, and as you can imagine, it doesn't take kindly to alternative lifestyles."

"Wow, it's amazing that you lived through it. Back then, things weren't nearly as good as they are now. Beatings, or worse, weren't uncommon."

RD nodded firmly. "We had our share of bad times, and we both had to completely change our lives, but we made the decision to be committed to each other before anything else. It's worked well for us. And it could for you also." Doyle smiled. "Take some time and contemplate what you want to do. And be sure, very sure. It will turn your life upside down, but you won't regret it. Honesty is always the best way, no matter what the outcome. Your mind will rest knowing you were honest, even if your man doesn't return your feelings."

Blair considered RD's words. He nodded seriously. "I have a lot to think about."

Doyle smiled. "So tell me about these dreams."

"Sure. Last night's was really great." Blair let out a snort before he explained to RD, who had a curious look on his face, "They're all pretty amazing, actually. Sometimes they're -- kind of romantic. Other times, they're quite explicit." When RD grinned and waited, he cleared his throat. "Anyway, I was standing..."

He stood on the curb, huddled down into his jacket. The rain beat down on his head, drenching the hat that he'd pulled down over his ears. A glance to the left revealed that the bus he was waiting for wasn't anywhere to be seen, and the small glass enclosure of the bus stop was crammed with people, leaving no room for the extra dozen or so who stood along the sidewalk, getting soaked and looking miserable. A few huddled under umbrellas, and if he hadn't lost his several weeks ago, he'd would have been under his, as well as offering a bit of its shelter to the person standing next to him.

Shivering, he cringed when the wind blew, biting into his flesh in spite of the heavy coat. His jeans above his hiking boots were soaked, but thankfully, the heavy boots offered his feet protection from the elements, and they were dry and warm.

Tucking his chin into his jacket, he was startled when a vehicle stopped directly in front of him and the horn honked. His head chi chrisame up and he jumped back. When the passenger door swung open, and a friendly voice called, "Get in here, you jerk!" he let out a cold-laced grin and practically leaped into the warm interior.

"Jim!" he cried, slamming the door closed. "Oh, man. Thank you. Thank you."

"Sandburg, why didn't you call? You are so fucking exasperating sometimes!" Jim growled angrily. "You're going to catch your death!"

"Sorry," he muttered, teeth chattering. He sighed gratefully when Jim cranked up the heat even more. "The Volvo was supposed to be fixed today!"

Jim gave a deep sigh. "So you told me. But, Chief, if it wasn't fixed, all you had to do was call! I would have picked you up."

He swiveled his head, his eyes examining his partner intently. "Why did you come? How did you know about my car?"

With a snort, Jim shrugged. "It's your kind of luck. If it had been a bright, sunny day, I wouldn't have given it a second thought, but since it's raining enough to sink even Noah, I figured something like this would happen."

"You could have tried my cell," he whined.

"I did. You didn't answer."

"What?" He unzipped a pouch on his backpack and fished inside. Punching a button, he dropped the phone back into his pack. "Sorry," he said, grinning sheepishly. "Battery's dead."

"Dork." Jim parked in front of 852 and shut the engine. "Get your ass upstairs and out of those wet clothes. While you take a warm shower, I'll fix something hot to eat."

"I love you, you know."

Jim rolled his eyes, but his tone was kind. "You need a keeper, Sandburg."

Grinning, he raced across the street and practically danced up the three flights of stairs. Once inside, he laid a trail across the floor, dropping hat, coat, backpack, two flannel shirts, an undershirt, and his belt. Over his shoulder, he yelled, "I'll get all of my junk off the floor after I'm warm!" before he closed the bathroom door and finished undressing.

The shower was hot and so inviting. He stayed under the spray an extra five minutes, emerging into a sauna of a bathroom. He grinned when he saw clean sweats neatly stacked on the toilet seat lid, along with thick wool socks. "Jim, man, you're the best."

He toweled off quickly and got into the warm, dry clothing. Rubbing another dry towel over his hair, he took just a few minutes to blow dry it to remove the excess water before he emerged from the steamy room to find the table laid with bowls of chicken noodle soup, grilled ham, cheese and tomato sandwiches, and hot coffee.

"Oh, man. This is great."

"Eat, Sandburg," Jim said with a smile. "Your turn to do the dishes."

"Sure," he said, sliding into his chair and diving into the food. "I'll do anything you want."

Jim raised an eyebrow, eating his own food, but he didn't say anything. They chatted aimlessly while they ate, and once finished, he cleared the table and stood at the sink, washing the dishes.

Jim picked up a dish towel and dried, making a stack of the clean dishes on the counter.

He turned to look and see if he had gotten all of the dishes when he bumped into Jim.

"Oops. Sorry," he said amicably.

"No problem," Jim said, fingertips lightly brushing his sleeve. "You warm now?" Jim's hands seemed to automatically reach out to wrap around his upper arms.

He nodded, glancing into his partner's face. "Yes. Thanks to you."

"Chief..."

"Yeah?"

"What you said down in the truck... About -- loving me. Did you mean that?"

His gaze met Jim's, his face serious as he placed his own hands on Jim's arms, mirroring his partner's actions. "Yes."

"Me, too." Jim gave him a shy smile.

He moved a bit closer. "More than you know, Jim."

"Oh?"

"What would you say if I asked if you'd -- kiss me?"

Jim paused, seeming to consider the offer for a moment before he responded, "I'd say yes, Blair, I'd like that."

He nodded his approval, his throat suddenly dry. He tipped his head and waited expectantly.

As Jim moved closer, his heart rate increased. Jim's gaze seemed to be locked on his mouth. He couldn't help but smile. "Thanks," he whispered.

"For what?" Jim asked.

"Rescuing me."

"It's what I do, Sandburg. Blessed Protector, and all."

"Jim, if you're really going to do this, if we're really going to do this, you'd better call me Blair."

Jim chuckled softly, "Blair."

"Oh, man," he moaned out softly just before their mouths touched...

"Then I woke up."

RD seemed to consider what Blair had described for a long moment before he asked, "Do you want my advice about the actual relationship or about your reactions to your -- attraction?"

Blair ran a hand through his hair before he glanced at his friend. "Both?"

Doyle smiled. Blair thought he had the coolest green eyes he'd ever seen and a great smile. He smiled briefly before he focused on his friend, listening to his explanations carefully.

"First, I think the dreams are certainly your mind's desires manifesting themselves the only way it knows how. You obviously are interested in this person, and a sexual relationship seems to be what you'd consider. Secondly, I understand about same-sex relationships. It's not widely accepted, although things are getting better. But if this is something that you know in your heart is right, then I would really search your soul about this man. If he's the one, then I think you should talk to him. Mate to mate, seriously and with full disclosure."

Blair shook his head sharply. "I couldn't do that... Not right now."

"It's okay," Doyle said, leaning forward. "Just think about it. You never have to tell him, but I'm thinking that you'll probably keep having the dreams until this is resolved. But I'm no expert on dreams, and really, even though people claim to be, it's far from an exact science."

"Don't I know it," Blair said with a groan. "I've read two or three books on dream interpretation, and they vary widely in their ideas. One will tell me it's literal, and another will insist that dreams are symbolic."

"Each person brings their own emotions, experiences and reality into their dreams. I doubt that any two people, even identical twins, could possibly experience the same exact dreams, and even if they did, they would each see something different in the interpretation." Doyle smiled. "And self-exploration is probably a key."

"I do a lot of meditating. It seems to help. If nothing else, it brings things into a calmer state, and I can handle it easier."

"Good. That's what meditation is supposed to do."

"What's the last thing?"

"Your reactions to the attraction? I think, right now, you seem a bit -- conflicted. You like the attraction, but are still a touch uncomfortable with it. Am I right?"

"Yeah."

"Blair, are you in love?"

Blair's eyes widened before he slowly nodded. "I think I am."

Doyle smiled. "Love is a good thing, and you seem to have taken to it well, given the circumstances. You seem -- happy and content."

Returning his friend's smile with a grin of his own, Blair responded, "I feel pretty good about it, in spite of the dreams. Sometimes they make it -- harder, but usually, they're good." Blair rose from his seat. "I'd better get out of your hair. I have a class in thirty minutes, and if I'm late, they start throwing the furniture."

Doyle laughed, rising also. He held out his hand. "Take care of yourself, and don't be a stranger."

Blair took his friend's hand in a firm grasp. "I won't. Thanks. I really appreciate your help." He turned and walked toward the door. Bending down, he rose and turned, holding up a penny. "Hey, you're rich!" When RD laughed, Blair joined him, offering the coin. "You know what they say about pennies?"

"What's that?"

"Pennies from heaven. When you find a penny, it means the angels are letting you know somebody loves you."

RD laughed. "There you go. Maybe it's your guardian angel letting you know that the person you love is thinking about you. Keep it. For luck."

"Thanks, man." Blair slipped the penny into his pocket. "I think when I find a hundred pennies from heaven, I'll know it's time to tell my friend about how I feel."

Clamping a hand on Blair's shoulder, RD laughed again. "You let me know. We'll have a drink to celebrate."

"It's a deal."

\---------------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Two

Blair felt as if he was being held down under thick blankets, his limbs restrained while his face was covered. His breathing came in ragged gasps, and he arched his back, vainly trying to fight his way out of the stifling confines of what held him captive. His mouth opened to scream, but something awful invaded it, sliding down his throat to cut off his airway. His eyes, wide and open, saw nothing. His ears were filled with the pounding of drums, blocking out everything else. Blair fought valiantly until even his own body betrayed him, and he sank suddenly into inky blackness...

He very slowly opened his eyes, cautiously, afraid that whatever had held him prisoner was still nearby. It was with surprise that what he saw wasn't some unknown monster, but the face of his partner, sitting close to him. He blinked dazedly, only now realizing that he was in a hospital and that Jim was holding his hand, intently staring down at him.

"Chief?"

"Jim?" he croaked.

"Oh, thank God." Jim's blood-shot eyes looked into his. "Thank God," he repeated. Jim smiled, reaching out to stroke the side of his face. "How do you feel?"

He closed his eyes before opening them to say, "Crappy."

Jim nodded, still smiling. "It's no wonder. You scared the shit out of me."

"Thirsty," he whispered.

"Have an ice chip," Jim offered, finally releasing his hand to reach for the cup beside his bed. "Open up," Jim requested, holding a plastic spoon close to his mouth.

He gratefully sucked on the ice before he asked, "What happened?"

"Apparently, you had a reaction to the anesthetic they gave you in surgery for the leg wound. You went into anaphylactic shock. They had to intubate you."

He raised a hand to rub his forehead. "So that was it."

Jim looked puzzled. "What was 'it'?"

"I was -- I don't know, suffocating. Like somebody had a pillow over my face. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move my arms and legs. Then something was -- shoved down my throat. I remember trying to..." He sighed. "God, I'm so tired."

Jim took his hand again. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe you remember it. The doctors said you were unconscious." Jim's lips pressed together in a thin line. He knew his partner was angry for the pain he'd suffered.

"I was a bit scared," he finally admitted.

Squeezing his hand, Jim whispered lovingly, "Shhh. It's over now. Try and sleep, Chief. You're going to be okay." Then gently, he tucked the hand he'd been holding under the blankets.

"Stay with me?" he asked plaintively, hating the tone that colored his words, but unable to hold it in. The images still lingered, and he didn't tell Jim that he'd been beyond scared and well into terrified. Having Jim here now made things a whole lot better. He felt safe.

"Sure. For you, anything."

"Thank you." He closed his eyes and let out a tired sigh. "Jim?" He reached out blindly. His hand was quickly clasped in large, warm ones. "Love you." He was surprised when lips touched his forehead and his hand was again gently squeezed.

"I love you, too, Blair."

With a tired smile, he slept, knowing that Jim was near...

"Chief?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, his eyes opened. "Jim?" he croaked.

"God, Sandburg, you scared the hell out of me! How do you feel?"

"Thirsty. Tired." Blair glanced around. "What happened?"

"Open up." He accepted the ice chip with a grateful nod. "You had a bad turn in the OR. Apparently you had a reaction to the anesthetic and gave the surgeons quite a scare. They had to intubate you when your throat swelled."

"Yeah, I know."

"What?"

Blair's gaze met Jim's. "I saw it. I remember it."

"Chief, you were unconscious. I doubt-"

"I hate when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Think I'm crazy. Doubt my word. When are you going to- You know, never mind. Forget it." Blair didn't bother to hide the impatience in his words.

Jim touched Blair's arm lightly. "You had a rough turn. Why don't you sleep? Rest is what you need."

"Yeah, sure," Blair said dejectedly. "Whatever."

"I can stay if you like."

He cast a wounded look at Jim. "I'm sure you're busy."

Jim returned his look with one of pure exasperation. "You are hard-headed, Chief. But I'm glad you're still around to give me grief. You had me worried."

"I did?"

"Of course." Now Jim looked hurt. "Do you think I don't care?" At his dejected shrug, Jim sat on the side of the bed. "Listen. You and I are partners. Right?" Jim waited until Blair finally nodded. "I always take care of my partners. And if I remember correctly, a Sentinel's survival is linked to his partner."

"Only had two, if I recall correctly. Partners, that is..."

"So? The number doesn't matter. I cared about Jack, and I care about you. Now listen up because this is the plan. You're going to have another ice chip for your dry throat." At Blair's raised eyebrow, Jim chuckled. "Sentinel, remember? I know your throat is sore from the tube. I can hear it in your voice." He fed Blair another ice chip. "Then, after that's dissolved, you're going to close your eyes and sleep. And I'm going to be here when you wake up. How does that sound?" Jim schooled his face into a hard glare, but he knew Jim was just teasing.

Blair nodded, grateful for his partner's nearness. "Good. Thanks, man."

"Go to sleep, Chief."

With a ghost of a smile, he followed his partner's instructions and closed his eyes to rest.

\------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Three

The ringing of the phone jarred Blair out of his dream. He sat up quickly, his hearing stretching to listen to Jim's voice. He heard Jim mumble something before he added, "Be right there," so Blair crawled from his bed and snapped on the bedside table.

While he was pulling on jeans, socks and a clean shirt, Jim paused at his door, buttoning his own shirt.

"What are you doing, Sandburg?" Jim groused.

Blair threw a long-sleeve flannel shirt over his t-shirt. "Getting dressed," he quipped.

Jim sighed, shaking his head. "I can see that, smart ass. Why?"

"You got called in. I'm coming with you, of course," Blair said, his tone conveying that Jim was definitely being dense if he didn't know why he was dressing.

"You don't have to do that. Especially after the night you were having," Jim said smartly.

Grabbing his shoes, Blair slipped into the boots before tying the ties. "Ha. Ha. What's that supposed to mean?"

"You were riding high, Chief." Jim's voice took in a mocking tone, "Go, man, go. That's it. Faster! Faster!" He laughed. "Reliving the race?"

Blair felt himself blush. He ducked his head, letting his hair cover his face while he picked up his jacket from the foot of his bed. "Ah, yeah, sure. Sorry about that."

Jim chuckled. "No problem. After all, you did manage to win two hundred bucks on Little Stogie's first race since the track reopened. I'd be happy, too."

"I told you to let me place a bet for you." Blair followed his partner out through the loft and down toward the elevator. "But no, you still insist that it's cruel to treat race horses like -- race horses." With a shake of his head, Jim shrugged. "So how about breakfast?"

"It's too early for breakfast. If you're nice to me, though, I might let you pay for coffee from that deli over on Bannock."

"You're too good to me, Ellison." As they headed toward the truck, Blair gave Jim a quick glance. "I'm glad you and your brother are patching things up."

"Don't get all Ann Landers on me, Sandburg. I said we were talking. Nobody said anything about patching things up."

Blair gave Jim a knowing look. "You are your brother's keeper, man. You can't help it. It's the protector in you."

"Chief, these days, I'm your keeper. And you need one a hell of a lot more than Steven ever did."

Blair gave Jim a narrow-eyed glance, making Jim laugh. "You are such a dork."

"Takes one to know one."

Trading barbs amicably, they headed toward the crime scene.

\------------------------------

Sipping his coffee, Blair leaned against the passenger door and thought about last night's -- or this morning's -- dream. He grinned, his lips wrapped around the opening in the plastic lid of his cup. If only Jim knew. He closed his eyes...

"Faster!" he ordered, arching into his lover's touch. Spreading his legs wider to give Jim more access, he let out a cry when Jim's cock jabbed his prostate. "Oh, God... Go deeper, Jim." When Jim withdrew momentarily, only to ram back into his body, he screamed. "That's it!"

"Going to fuck you into next week, Chief," Jim growled, thrusting deeply.

He steadied himself on his hands and knees as his lover pounded into his ass. Chanting mindlessly, he cried, "Faster... Go... Faster, faster. Go, Jim... Ah, shit!" With Jim's hand wrapped around his throbbing dick, and with Jim's cock plunging into and pulling out of his body hard and fast, he let out a yell when he came in a rush onto the sawdust.

Jim grunted twice, fingers holding him firmly as Jim came inside his body. "God, Chief!" Jim cried, pumping until his cock, finally limp, pulled free. "That was -- wonderful."

His arms gave way, and together, they tumbled into the sawdust. The horse in the stall next to them let out a whinny and kicked the wooden side, making them both freeze. They looked at each other before they started to laugh.

"Oh, shit," he said, between bursts of laughter. "You really meant it when you said you could ride."

Jim's laughter joined his. "Saddle up, partner. This rodeo ain't over by a long shot."

Snickering, he said, "I think you shot long, Jim."

Groaning, Jim laughed. "You are a sick man."

He rolled over to cross his hands on Jim's chest, which was now covered with sweat and sawdust. Looking into Jim's happy face, he grinned. "I love you, man."

Jim reached up with a sawdust and come-covered hand and ruffled his hair. "You too, Chief."

"Hey!" he cried, batting away the dirty hand. "Watch the hair."

Laughing, Jim moved quickly, rolling him off and over onto his back to cover his mouth. Opening his lips quickly, Jim's tongue delved in, exploring before his lover pulled his tongue back to kiss his lips thoroughly. Only when they were both panting wildly did Jim let them both breathe.

"Your turn, Kemosabe," Jim said with a lecherous grin.

"Oh, God," he whispered as Jim's talented fingers walked down his belly to stroke his soft dick. He was astonished when he felt his body respond as his cock twitched. "Get ready, partner, because it's time to lasso you. You need a lot of taming."

Jim climbed to his knees to straddle his hips. "Where is that rope?"

Laughing, he scrambled up, absentmindedly brushing sawdust from his body. Dropping into his role, he reached over and lifted a piece of rope, which hung on a nail. He twirled the rope in his hand and said with a Texas drawl, "Gonna catch me a stud. Hung like a horse, so they tell me." He raised an eyebrow, glaring at Jim's cock. "Looks like it from here."

Together, they laughed...

"...down on Alvarez Avenue."

Blair blinked, and glanced over at Jim, who had hit the lights and siren. "I was daydreaming, man. What did you say?"

Jim gave Blair a quick glance, pursing his lips before he said, "I said Simon called. He's getting Rafe and Brown to cover the DB at the docks. He needs us down on Alvarez Avenue. Hostages in a convenience store robbery."

Sitting up straight, Blair nodded. "Okay. Let's do it, partner."

Seemingly happy with Blair's quick response, Jim cast him a quick, satisfied look, and hit the accelerator.

\--------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Four

"Come on, sleeping beauty. Move your ass."

Blair rolled over onto his stomach and pulled the blankets over his head. "Leave me alone," he mumbled into the sheets. The blankets were summarily tugged away, and Blair cast a baleful eye at his partner, who stood fully dressed and shaved, looking ready and willing to face the day. "It's not fair!"

Waving a cup of steaming coffee in front of Blair's nose, Jim snorted. "I thought you said you were taking care of your little sleep problem, Chief." His tone was not unkind when he added, "You didn't have a good night, did you?"

"No." Blair struggled out from under the blankets that had wrapped around his legs, and he took the cup from Jim's hand. "Thanks, man," he muttered, taking a sip. "I did take care of it." He sighed, running his free hand through his tangled hair. "At least, I thought I did."

"I'd offer to help, but..."

"Forget it. It's no big deal." Rising, Blair handed Jim back the cup. "I'll take a quick shower and be ready to leave in fifteen minutes."

Jim put a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Hurry up, or Simon will have our asses. The Feds have been sending him more paperwork than you've seen in a decade since we broke into their installation. He's not in the best mood these days."

"Yeah, yeah," Blair said tiredly, waving a hand while he rummaged through his drawers for clean clothes. Yanking out a pair of jeans, he found a t-shirt that he hadn't worn in a while. "I'm hurrying."

Jim left, calling over his shoulder. "I'll fix you a bagel for the road, Sandburg!"

"You're a prince," Blair grumbled, his bad mood irritating even to himself.

While he took a shower, taking a few extra minutes to wash his sweaty hair, he thought back on this latest dream. Most were okay. Some had been pretty darned sexy, he knew, while others had been fun. Only a few had been disturbing, and last night's was in that bad category. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he’d dreamed what he had, but he knew that as he and Jim experienced more in their ever growing professional and private relationship, the dreams seemed to grow also. As he thought about last night's dream, he wondered if he was surely going slowly insane...

He ran and ran. His chest heaved, and his heart pounded. He glanced around, seeing trees and tall brush, confused as to why he was in the forest when he knew he should be in the city. As he moved forward, brush slapped at his face, stinging his eyes. But his fear spurned him forward. Behind him, he could hear the snap of a twig and the occasional muttered curse. Running blindly, he leapt over a fairly wide creek. He glanced down momentarily to see -- paws. His eyes widened as he skidded to a halt, all thoughts of his pursuer suddenly forgotten.

Paws? He lifted his right one. It was indeed a paw. Covered with a mixture of grey, black and white fur, he could clearly see the nails poking out of the fur. He hazarded a glance over his shoulder. He had a tail! He trotted back over to the creek and in a pool of still water, looked down. He was an animal -- a wolf, he suddenly realized. Curious how he had the ability to understand he was a man, yet he was in a wolf's body, he started to inspect himself further, but the sound of the approaching hunter brought him to full alert.

Sniffing the air, he clearly smelled the man. The acrid tang of the man's sweat hit his nostrils full force. The hunter was close, too close. Terrified, he turned and started to move quickly, running recklessly in his panic. Not bothering to look back, he raced down the trail before veering off into the jungle. He didn't slow his pace for a good while, jumping dead trees and small brooks, until he reached a clearing. He carefully trotted around the edges, keeping to the underbrush, his senses on full alert. Finally, he stopped, his tongue lolling from his mouth as his chest heaved. Taking a second to catch his breath, he glanced around. Not smelling his pursuer, he lifted his nose to double check once his heart had settled somewhat. Nothing registered to his sensitive receptors, so he stepped out.

The arrow hit him in the side, and with a yelp, he fell. Pain flowed through his veins and invaded his body. As his eyes slipped shut, he saw the man approach...

"Shit," Blair muttered, angrily wrenching off the taps. Grabbing a towel, he roughly rubbed his body after he'd wrapped his dripping locks in another towel. As he quickly dressed, he didn't need to even close his eyes to bring up a vision of the man who had killed the wolf; who had killed him. It was Jim.

\-----------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Five

"What do you see?" Blair asked quietly, stepping closer to Jim, whose gaze was firmly latched on something across the street from where they stood.

Simon clamped his cigar between his teeth. "Wrap this up and make your report."

"Yes, sir," Blair answered. When Jim ignored Simon's order, he reached out and tapped Jim's arm. "Jim?"

"What?" Jim's head rose up so quickly, Blair was surprised that his neck bone didn't snap.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jim said.

Blair intently examined him through narrowed lids. He knew Jim by now, and Jim had definitely "seen" something. Something that only he could see. But he was tired of having to always pry information out of his close-mouthed partner, so, with a disgruntled sigh, he turned away. "Whatever, man. Come on. I'm hungry and tired." He walked away without looking back, going over to stand next to Jim's totaled SUV.

When Jim came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, Blair didn't respond. Jim cleared his throat. "Nice work." Blair shrugged. "Want a burrito?"

Blair glanced sideways at his partner. Jim's face was pleading with him to drop it; to once again not question him about what had just happened and why he'd practically zoned in the middle of a city street. Blair chewed on his inner cheek before he figured the path of least resistance was sometimes best for both of them these days. He gave Jim a curt nod. "Yeah, sure."

Jim's face broke into a grin. "My treat." He started to turn before he stopped. "Well, crap. No wheels, Sandburg."

"We could go back to the station and get something from the motor pool."

Jim grimaced as he looked at his Explorer. The tow-truck operator had pulled up, and Jim fished out his roadside assistance card. Handing it to one of the patrol officers he knew, he muttered, "Hank, could you handle this for me?" He didn't explain further, but Hank didn't question him either.

"Sure, Jim," the officer said. "I'm sure Banks needs those reports."

"Yeah," Jim responded absentmindedly "Thanks. I owe you one." Turning to Blair, he said, "Let's catch a ride into the station with Simon. Then we'll grab some dinner on the way home."

Blair nodded, following. As usual, he thought bitingly, Jim ignored him and his concerns. He stifled his sigh. Blair knew he was being unreasonable. Jim had never been one to talk about his feelings, but he thought that with everything that had happened -- Incacha dying especially, that Jim might have wanted to at least talk a bit. But instead, they'd had that fight in the loft when Forensics was trying to examine Incacha's body, and after Jim's senses came back on line, nothing else was said. As usual, he repeated to himself. Blair crossed his arms and slumped in the corner of Simon's car for the ride across town. Damn, but he was tired with all that had happened the past few days. Resting his head against the window, he drifted off...

"Chief, I was wondering..." Jim stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter watching his every move while he fixed dinner.

Jim looked tired and drawn. No wonder, he mused, having lost such a good friend and an important person in his life. Why did it always seem to happen to Jim? Incacha's body had been shipped back to Peru for burial, and all that they had left was the ghost of the image of the shaman dying on their sofa. The idea made him shiver.

"What is it?" he asked quietly, encouraging Jim with his voice and demeanor to continue; that he was here for him.

"About... Incacha..."

He shut off the gas under the pan and turned, leaning against the counter opposite Jim. "I'm really, really sorry. He was truly an impressive man."

Jim's eyes misted for a moment, but even as he watched, he could plainly see his partner firmly stifle the emotions that threatened to bubble over. "He was. He saved my life."

"I'd like to hear about that."

Jim nodded, clearly struggling to find the right words. "I was burying my men when the warriors found me. They didn't threaten me, or anything. I suppose it was because I was covered in blood and gore, and I was clearly -- out of my mind." At his disbelieving snort, Jim gave a small smile. "You look like you think I'm telling you a fast one, Chief. I didn't realize it at the time, but I'd taken a good shot to the head. I had a huge gash across my forehead. Blood had covered my face and most of my uniform. When the warriors found me, I was pretty much out of it. Concussion and blood loss.

"They helped me finish up and took me back to camp. I remember walking into the village, and I remember Incacha staring at me with this -- strange look on his face. Like he'd just seen a ghost." Jim shifted and glanced away. "I passed out about that time, and Incacha told me I was out for two days. When I came to, I felt pretty crappy, and it was a couple more days before I could walk.

"Nothing else much to tell. My senses came on line. I thought I was nuts. Incacha taught me Chopec and helped me understand about me; what I was. He's the first one who called me a -- Sentinel."

He ran a hand through his long hair. "So you knew about Sentinels long before I told you."

With a shrug, Jim said, "I suppressed most of that information when I came back to the States. It was so much like a dream that the details just -- slipped away. It wasn't until that stakeout, waiting for Sarris that I knew, deep down, what was happening. But even then," Jim crossed his arms and his jaw muscle twitched, "I didn't want to believe it, so I didn't." With a snort, his partner explained, "Just call me Cleopatra, huh?"

With a laugh, he moved closer to Jim. "The Queen of Denial?"

"Yeah." Jim laughed also, but the laughter didn't reach the clear blue eyes, he saw. "I miss him," Jim finally admitted.

"I know." He reached out a hand. Jim caught it and before he could say anything, had pressed a kiss into the palm.

"Jim?" he questioned, his throat tightening.

"Thanks, Chief. You're my best friend."

His throat closed, and he felt his own eyes prickle. "You, too, Jim."

Jim glanced up at him and before he could say, "What the fuck?", Jim's lips were pressed against his. The kiss was sweet and warm, and he happily responded. When they finally parted, they smiled shyly at each other.

Finally, after a moment of awkward silence, he spoke first. "Why don't we put dinner on hold and go upstairs? I'd like to hold you and have you tell me more about your time in Peru, and about Incacha. Could we do that?"

Jim smiled. "Anything you want, Chief. Any time, any place..."

"Sandburg, you okay?"

Blair nodded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Jim gave him an intent look. "Right," he drawled. "Lately, you've been sleeping about as well as I have."

"I said I'm fine," he snapped, immediately feeling like a heel when Jim's face flashed a hurt look before the stoic expression turned into a mask of stone. "Hey," Blair said quietly, "I'm sorry. It's true. I haven't been sleeping well at all."

Jim nodded, his eyes revealing that Blair's apology had been accepted. "Come on. We're off the clock for two days. All that we're doing is sleeping and eating. Rest, Chief. That's the ticket." He latched onto Blair's jacket sleeve and towed him along.

With a tired smile, Blair followed his partner home.

\------------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Six

Jim set a large plate of pancakes between them on the dining table before sitting down across from Blair. "You look pretty happy this morning, Chief."

"I feel great!" Blair forked three of the cakes onto his plate, topping them with a butter pat and a good covering of maple syrup. Licking his finger, he added, "Thanks for the chow. Looks great!" He cut into the hotcakes and chewed a large forkful before he nodded happily. "These are wonderful. And speaking of looking pretty good, you look okay yourself. Sleep well?"

Jim nodded, chewing his own food. He wiped his mouth on a napkin before he nodded. "Yeah, I slept like a baby. Finally."

"Yeah. Finally," he echoed, relief coloring his tone.

"No more dreams?" Jim sipped his orange juice.

"Oh, definitely. I'm still having dreams, but lately they've been..." Blair ate two more forkfuls before he added, "Sometimes they're not scary or weird. Kind of nice, actually."

"So tell me," Jim asked between bites.

"No way!"

"So let me get this straight. You're always bugging me to open up. To tell you my inner secrets, yet you won't tell me about a dream? Why not? They're not real, Chief. Just -- your mind having fun."

Blair ate the last bite before he leaned back, drinking his coffee. "Okay. I'll tell you."

Jim took his own cup in hand and shifted in his chair, clearly getting comfortable to listen. "Hit it, Sandburg..."

"We were playing basketball..."

"Great shot!" he shouted, watching the ball hit the rim. It rolled along the metal three complete revolutions before it sank into the net. "Oh, man! Three point shot!"

Jim whooped and raced over to him, yanking him from the floor in a bear hug. He set him down and ruffled his hair. "A hundred bucks," he said, holding out his hand to their two competitors.

One of their opponents slapped the bill into Ellison's hand, muttering, "I can't believe you guys won."

With Jim proudly looking on, he grinned, glancing up at the taller men who hovered near him. "I told you I played all point guard."

"Yeah, yeah." The two officers who had challenged them to the game grabbed their gear and took off, still grousing between themselves about Ellison and his 'shrimpy' partner, who apparently was good for at least fourteen points in a game of two-on-two.

"Whatever, man!" he called at their retreating backs before snatching up his towel and wrapping it around his neck. "Good game!" he said to Jim with glee.

"I'll give you your half when I break the bill, Sandburg."

"Cool. I'm going to hit the showers."

Jim sniffed dramatically before he held his nose. "Good idea."

His mouth fell open. He looked at his partner, whose shirt was damp with sweat. "Speak for yourself, Ellison. You're not exactly smelling like roses."

"Race you," Jim cried, running across the court to the men's locker room.

Laughing, they stripped and each man turned on the taps for their shower nozzle. He made his a bit cool, happily sighing as the sweat washed away. Tipping back his head, he murmured appreciatively under the water.

"Shampoo, Chief?"

"Yeah, man. Thanks." Keeping his eyes closed, he reached out a hand, which Jim filled with the creamy liquid. He scrubbed his hair, running his hands through the strands until the shampoo was gone and the hair was clean. He wiped his eyes and glanced over at his partner, who was washing his own hair. He cast a secretive glance at Jim's body, including below the waist. He licked his lips before turning away.

"Like what you see?" Jim asked.

He gasped, his eyes widening, as he turned away, shrugging casually. "I didn't see anything."

"Liar." Jim rubbed a bar of soap between his hands before he ran the palms down his own body, stopping to finger his nipples. Jim's hands seductively continued downward, slowly caressing the expanse of skin.

He gulped noisily, reaching out to turn off the water. He started to walk away when his friend's voice said softly, "Come here, Blair."

He turned. "Jim?" he asked, his throat tight.

"Want you." He glanced nervously around, but Jim said reassuringly, "Don't worry. We're alone... and the door's locked. Nobody will interrupt us." Jim paused for a moment before he said invitingly, "See anything you like?"

He slowly walked toward his partner, his own body instantly alert. "Yes."

"Good," Jim said, still stroking his cock, which started to swell.

"Oh, shit," he whispered, his eyes wide.

"You've got a great body, Sandburg."

"Blair. Call me Bl-" His words were cut off when Jim's mouth covered his, and his lover's tongue slid in. His hands fluttered in the air before they found purchase on Jim's waist. He tipped his head back, inviting his partner to deepen the kiss.

Emboldened by the actions, Jim's hand moved down his body until it cupped his balls. Then the hand started to alternatively stroke and lightly squeeze in an arousing fashion. Finally releasing his mouth, Jim's lips touched his ear and he said, "Going to make love to you right here," he paused before he said in a low, emphatic voice, "Blair..."

"You're kidding!" Jim guffawed loudly.

"Hey, you asked." Blair grinned, draining his coffee cup. "You want another?" he asked, pointing at Jim's cup.

"Yeah, sure. Sandburg, you are such a dick."

Laughing aloud, Blair casually poured coffee into the two cups. "I have an active imagination. What can I say?"

Jim laughed. "You expect me to buy that story? Next time I'll know better than to ask you to tell me what you really dream about. I swear, you are so full of bull that it isn't even funny."

Blair was relieved when Jim reacted as he hoped he would that he almost pumped an arm into the air and shouted, 'Yea!'. Instead he tamped down his elation and shook his head, giving a small snort of laughter. "If I'd said I didn't remember the dream, you would have bugged the heck out of me, so I just made up something -- silly."

Rising, Jim bopped Blair on the head. "Now that I believe. But I enjoyed the story. Sandburg, you spin a good tale, but you are a piece of work. I'm going to pack lunch. You want a p-b&j in yours?"

Blair laughed. "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

While Jim made them sandwiches, still chuckling to himself, Blair stacked the breakfast dishes in the sink and quietly relived the provocative dream in his mind once again.

\-------------------------------------  
Chapter Thirty-Seven

"Jim, I swear, I will never, ever say anything again about any of the women you date if you swear to me right here and now that you will not throw Iris in my face." Blair sank into the sofa, carefully making his tone just pleading enough to beg, but not enough to raise Jim's radar. The guy took any opportunity he could to tease him mercilessly. "Leave the dishes, man. I'll clean up in a minute."

Jim carried a pile of dirty dishes from the dining table to the sink. He turned on the tap and began to run the water into the sink. After he put in a good squirt of dishwashing liquid, he started putting the dishes into the hot water.

"I said I'd clean up," Blair said exasperatedly. "Give a guy a chance."

"It's a deal. I'll wash. You dry."

"Okay. Deal. Both deals."

Jim snickered. "Both?"

"Yeah, dishes and Iris."

"All right, Chief. No teasing about Iris in exchange for no teasing about the women I date. Although I have to admit, I pick better women than you do. At least I pick them sweet and innocent, kind of like the girl next door that your mom would approve of."

"Need I remind you about Laura?"

Jim grimaced. "Point taken. Guess neither one of us is very good at picking out women."

Blair patted his partner's arm. "Hey, man. Don't sweat it. In all the studies I've made around the world, nobody has it right yet. It's the humanity of man and all his foibles."

"Enough with the lecture, Professor. Dry faster."

"Geez, you're a bear tonight. What's gotten into you?"

"I have a date. I'm meeting Cynthia at nine, and that dinner of yours has turned me on big time, so I don't want to be late."

"Ha. Ha." Blair shook his head in fond amusement. "You just be careful." He waved a finger at his friend. "You might think it didn't work, but I have it on good authority that the combination of food that you ate will bring on very powerful aphrodisiac effects after it has time to coalesce and start to break down. Take a condom, man. You're going to need it." Blair grinned. "Make that two."

Jim snorted, flicking water at Blair. Soon, they ended up having a good-natured water battle and then had to spend thirty minutes cleaning up soapy residue from the kitchen floor, counters and cabinets.

After Jim left for his date, Blair did some research, made a few phone calls, then tried to relax by watching television. Bored, he clicked off the set and wandered to his room where he lay in bed and tried to get into a mystery novel. The last thing he remembered reading was the description of a romantic dinner the suave hero was sharing with a beautiful woman...

\--------------------------

"This is a very special cake," he said, kneeling on the floor next to the coffee table beside which Jim sat, his elbows resting on the polished surface. At his friend's raised eyebrow, he nodded. "Trust me."

Jim smiled. "Coming from you-"

"Those are the two scariest words in the English language," he finished.

Laughing, Jim nodded as he reached out a finger, clearly intending to swipe it through the thick frosting. He slapped his partner's hand. "Nope," he said at Jim's surprised expression. "That's not how it works. I have to feed you."

"Oh." Jim smiled. "Okay."

He used his thumb and forefinger, plucking a piece of the cake, along with a good bit of icing, into his grasp. He ever so slowly brought his hand toward Jim, who opened his mouth and waited. When his fingers passed Jhis lover's lips, he gasped when Jim locked his mouth around them and sucked. His partner's tongue flicked along his fingers, clearly mimicking a sexual suggestion, making him break out in a sweat. Jim finally released his fingers with a loud slurp.

"My turn," Jim said suggestively while dipping his middle finger deep into the cake.

He closed his eyes as the finger disappeared into the center of the cake. Just like he wanted that finger disappearing into him. His body reacted as his arousal slammed into him. "Oh, God," he gasped before he forced his eyes open.

Jim's seductive gaze met his as he held out the finger, clearly encouraging him to move closer. His mouth opened at the invitation. Jim curled his other fingers into his palm, his middle finger wantonly extended.

Opening his mouth, he didn't close it until the finger was fully inserted. Then his eyes slipped shut and he hummed softly, his tongue caressing the digit. When he felt the finger shake, his eyes flew open. Jim was staring at him, open mouthed, sweat beads popping out on his forehead. Encouraged, he noisily sucked.

His hand reached out, fingers wrapping around Jim's wrist. "Good, Jim," he said appreciatively. "Very good." He flicked out his tongue, barely touching the wet digit again, watching intently. His partner's eyes widened before narrowing, and it was with glee that he saw Jim shift and press a hand against his crotch. He was turning Jim on, and he liked it.

"More," he ordered.

Jim nodded with a nervous gulp. Again, the same finger was coated with cake and icing and held out invitingly.

Again, he responded, moving toward it, opening his mouth, but at the last second, he closed his lips and turned his head, making Jim wipe the sweetness along his cheek. Chuckling, he said playfully, "Oops. Guess you'd better do something about that."

Jim tugged him closer by his shirtfront and licked the dessert from his cheek in long, wet swipes of that deadly tongue before moving onto his jaw line and down his neck. He tipped his head back, offering his throat for exploration. He was surprised, but pleased when his lover wiped more cake and icing on his throat before licking and sucking it from his skin.

Unable to stifle his desire, he whimpered...

The front door slammed, startling Blair out of his deep sleep. He jerked under the covers, his eyes flying open. The light from the living room illuminated the hallway outside his door, and he sat up, sending his novel to the floor with a dull thud. He held his breath when he called out, "Jim?"

"Sorry, Chief," Jim said softly, appearing in Blair's doorway, his body outlined by the light from the living room. "I didn't mean to make so much noise."

Huffing out his breath, he called over, "Jim, man, are you okay? It's only -- eleven-thirty."

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Did you have a nice time?"

"It was okay. I decided to come home."

Blair snickered. "What? The dinner didn't work?"

Jim shrugged. "Nah. Well, yeah, but... I just felt... silly. Besides, I know you've been having nightmares off and on, and I was worried. I thought I'd get home before you went to bed." Jim walked across the room and sat on Blair's bed. "And speaking of early, since when do you go to bed before midnight?"

Blair shrugged, crossing his legs. "I was tired, that's all. Thought I'd read for a bit and then try to catch up on a little sleep."

"No nightmares?"

"Nope."

"Sorry I woke you."

"Don't be. I have to pee anyway. Two cups of tea before bed a full bladder does make."

Jim snickered. "You are so weird," he quipped, ruffling Blair's hair. "'night, Sandburg."

Blair smiled. "Good night, Jim."

\------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Eight

He woke and blinked, slowly returning to awareness. The glow of the dying embers of the campfire cast shadows against the tent's sides, giving him enough light to glance over at Jim's sleeping bag, which lay flat and empty next to his.

Scooting out of his sleeping bag, he crawled over to the tent's flap and unzipped it. "Jim?" he called, seeing his companion sitting motionless beside the fire.

Jim's head slowly lifted, and their eyes met. Jim's reflected the red-yellow glow of the fire, and the corner of his friend's mouth lifted in a partial smile. "Go back to sleep, Chief," Jim called across the camp.

"What's wrong? Can't sleep?" he asked quietly. "Was I snoring?"

Jim poked at the fire with a long stick. "No, you weren't snoring. I thought I heard something, and I was worried about poachers. A bullet in the tent wouldn't be a good thing. But as far as I can tell, it was just a raccoon."

He rose and shivered, wrapping his arms around his chest. "Brrr." He scooted over to where Jim sat and plunked himself down on the log beside his partner. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jim shake his head and move his arm, seemingly to wrap it around his shivering shoulders, only to see Jim grimace and quickly drop his hand. "Jim?" he queried. "What is it?" he asked softly, placing a hand on his friend's knee.

"Don't." Jim's voice was -- tense, making him pause.

"Don't? Geez, we touch all the time. What's wrong? For God's sake, talk to me!" he practically begged. "Man, you're freaking me out. Lately... something's been bugging you."

Jim rose abruptly. "Leave it, Sandburg."

He rose also, his ire at Jim's closed attitude rising. But still, he forced his words out slowly. Nothing set his partner off even more than when he tried to bully him. "No, I will not leave it. Something's up. I've felt it for a while now, but the past few days... I thought taking this camping trip would help you relax, wind down, but you're wound tighter than ever. What-"

Jim turned and his eyes narrowed. "Don't you ever take no for an answer? I've told you to leave it, but you still poke and prod. Damn it to hell, but you're a pain in the ass!"

"Takes one to know one!" he shouted in response.

Jim's hands clenched before they loosened to quickly reach out and grab his upper arms. His gaze met his friend's and for a moment, he fleetingly thought that Jim was going to shove him backward, but instead, his partner forcefully yanked him forward. When he fell against Jim's chest, the strong arms circled his shoulders, and before he knew what was happening, his partner's mouth crushed his in a bruising kiss.

He melted against Jim, letting him control the kiss. He'd waited so long for this moment, and there was no way he'd do anything to interrupt it, in spite of his shock that Jim was actually kissing him. He'd ask about it later. The whys of the kiss -- why now and why not before, why him and why... When Jim's tongue delved into his mouth, even the questions evaporated. He went with the flow, returning each kiss with one of his own. He shivered and was pulled toward the tent by firm, strong, capable hands. Guided inside, he was stripped, kissed, tasted, licked and loved until he was practically insensate. His last lucid thought before he fell asleep wrapped in his lover's arms, was how much he loved Jim Ellison...

The sound of the shower running woke Blair. He slowly turned to his side, enjoying the warmth of a comfortable bed, as he lay curled up under the covers. A glance at the alarm clock showed 7 am. He reached up and brushed the hair from his forehead, groaning. He'd only been asleep two hours. The all-night study session with a couple of students who were on the road to failing their Anthro 204 class had taken its toll. Blair remembered a time when he could work all day, party all night and still feel alert and be bright-eyed in the morning. He must be getting old, he figured. He rolled from the bed and headed for the kitchen to fix coffee. A strong cup would do wonders for his aching head, not to mention how tacky his mouth felt after drinking those two beers after midnight.

He was leaning against the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish, when Jim emerged from the shower, looking pleased with himself. Blair crossed his arms and sighed.

"How was the camping trip with Elaine?" he asked.

Jim grinned. "Good." After a pause, he shrugged. "Very good."

"Coffee?"

"Nah. We had breakfast on the way in. I'm going to get dressed and head downtown." When Blair remained silent, Jim raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

With a shrug, he responded, "All night study session."

"Oh. Okay, Chief. Catch you later?" Jim asked expectantly.

Blair sighed. Even if Jim didn't love him like he loved Jim, he realized that Jim cared about him; that he liked having him around and needed him. Blair could tell Jim's invitation to join him was sincere, and that it was his way to express his affection. With a lighter heart, and in spite of the yearning for what he could never have, Blair nodded. "Yeah. I'll see you by one o'clock."

"I'll wait to have lunch with you."

At the eager look on Jim's face, he had to smile. "Okay, man. Lunch it is."

Jim nodded. "Have a good day, Sandburg."

"Thanks. You, too."

\---------------------------------

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Blair glanced over his left shoulder before merging into the evening traffic, driving Jim's truck carefully. He took a second to look toward his partner, but Jim seemed lost in thought. Blair returned his attention to the road and drove in silence for a few more minutes before he finally asked, "Are you okay?"

Jim sighed and shifted in his seat. From the corner of his eye, Blair saw him shrug. "Yeah, I guess." He heard Jim sigh again before finally admitting, "I'm okay. Tired."

"Did you -- love her?" Blair tentatively asked.

"She was -- nice. I liked the kid. It was fun for a while, pretending..." Jim shrugged again, falling silent.

"You'd make a great dad."

Jim gave Blair a quick smile. "Thanks, but it's not in the cards."

"Regrets?"

"No. I like what I do, and having a family is rough for a cop. Stevie's making me an uncle, so that works for me. That way, I can give him back after a visit."

"Or her," Blair added.

Jim nodded, smiling. "Or her. A boy would be nice for sports, but a girl is good too. We'll see."

Blair grinned, pulling into Jim's regular space in front of the loft. "I'm glad you're okay. Hang on, and I'll give you hand."

With a grimace, Jim climbed from the cab of the truck and waited until Blair reached his side.

"Put your arm across my shoulders."

"This sucks."

Chuckling, Blair wrapped an arm around Jim's waist. "Today just wasn't your day, Jim. Only you could do what you do. You saved an organized crime lord's grandson, became the inside man for the authorities with a bunch of not-so-very nice people, did the horizontal tango with a mob guy's wife-"

"Widow, Sandburg. She thought he was dead."

"Point taken. Then today, you took on an extremely vicious and jealous woman who wanted nothing more than to run the entire organization and who proved she was willing to destroy anybody else who dared interfere with her goals, including an innocent kid."

"It was nothing."

Blair gave an exasperated snort. "Yeah, right. Only you, the great Jim Ellison, would say it was nothing. Now let me finish." At his partner's resigned expression, Blair added, "And to top it all off, you managed to capture a dead mob boss, who turned up amazingly alive."

Jim hobbled alongside Blair as they crossed the sidewalk. "I did my job."

"But you didn't let me deliver the punch line!" Blair complained.  
"Save it, Sandburg," Jim growled, making Blair laugh louder.

"Don't get all caveman with me, Ellison," he returned good-naturedly. "You're under my power for at least two days the doc said. Nobody told you to get wet."

"I was shoved into the pool!" Jim protested.

"True. But after you got out of said pool, you decided to change into dry pants. A smart idea, I might add, considering it was pretty darned cold water. But it was the taking a header while hopping around on one foot with your wet pants wrapped around your ankles and falling on your ass, only to get up and stumble yet again, spraining your ankle, that was the not-so-smart part."

"And you and the guys aren't going to let me forget it, are you?"

Blair grinned. "Ah, no."

"I am so fucked," Jim muttered.

"I heard that," Blair quipped, earning him a bop on the back of the head. Jim swayed against him, sucking in a pained hiss.

"Careful. You take another dive and you'll end up in a cast. At least the doctor said this sprain was just painful. A break would not be a good thing."

"Always the optimist. What the hell is taking the elevator so long?"

"Man, you are a piece of work." The elevator finally reached the ground floor, the doors opening with a screech. "Come on. Elevator's kind of working, thank God. Let's get you set up on the sofa with an ice pack on that foot."

Jim squeezed Blair's shoulder and said sincerely. "Thanks, Chief. You're a pal."

"I am that," Blair answered a bit sarcastically. At Jim's raised eyebrow, he hastily cleared his throat, momentarily ashamed at his attitude. It certainly wasn't his partner's fault that he was in love with the big lout. He didn't deserve Blair's snarky attitude. With a smile, he said honestly, "It's nothing, man. That's what friends are for. After you're settled, I'll fix dinner."

"Chili?"

"Sure. For you, my special chili."

"Now who's being good to whom?"

\-------------------------

"Man, there is no way you're hopping your way up the stairs! You'll fall, and with me helping you, we'd both end up with busted heads or limbs. Now lie back and relax! You've slept in my bed before."

At Jim's amused expression, Blair blushed. "Well... Not in my bed. I mean, yeah, it is my bed, but I wasn't... We didn't..." Jim lay back and crossed his arms, watching him a snicker on his lips and clearly enjoying Blair's embarrassment "You are such a dick. Go to sleep. If you need anything, call me. I'll be on the sofa."

"Sandburg, for the last time, go up and use my bed. It's empty and that sofa isn't all that comfortable. I insist." Jim turned to his side, and after punching the pillow into submission, he lay his head down. "Turn out the light, Chief."

Blair stood very still for a moment before he smiled and said, "Night, Jim." He walked out into the living room and stood at the bottom of the stairs, thinking about the idea of sleeping in Jim's bed for a moment. A slow, lazy smile crossed his face. It was something he'd dreamt about for many months, so tonight was as good a time as any to let his imagination run wild while he actually did sleep in Jim's bed, albeit sans the object of his desires. But hey, it was something.

Taking the steps quietly, Blair walked up and across Jim's room. He pulled back the blankets and crawled in between the cool sheets. Burying his face into Jim's pillow, he breathed in the tantalizing smell of his partner. With the inviting fragrance tickling his brain, he closed his eyes...

He picked up the laundry basket from his bedroom floor and went up to Jim's room, gathering his roomie's dirty clothing from the hamper. Dumping everything into one basket, he grabbed detergent, stain remover and fabric softener sheets from under the kitchen sink and trotted down the steps to the basement laundry room. With a smile, and humming a ditty, he sorted the laundry into piles and after turning on the water and dumping detergent into the agitator, he started the first load.

Leaning on the washer, he smiled. Jim would be home soon, and they would spend the evening together. Nothing exciting, he knew, just the usual: fixing and eating dinner, washing the dishes, maybe watching a movie or reading in quiet companionship. He loved evenings at home with his partner. Jim was his during those evenings, and he treasured each one.

He pushed away from the washer and checked the dryer, cleaning the lint trap. From his laundry basket, he removed one of Jim's shirts to put some stain remover on a spot he remembered his friend had gotten eating tacos. He'd dripped sauce on his nice blue shirt, and he also remembered that Jim had thought the shirt was ruined from the stain and would have to be tossed out. He shook out the material and found the spot. After examining the stain, he spread the shirt out on the small table that sat along one wall. He stretched out the arms and glanced around. With a silly grin, he picked up the shirt and put one of the arms over his shoulder. He held the other out and danced around the room.

"You move like Fred Astaire," he said enticingly to his imaginary dance partner, humming a show tune.

In an imitation of Jim's voice, he answered himself, "And you are so light on your feet, it is a pleasure to dance with you."

Giggling to himself, he held out the shirt and bowed. "Thank you for the dance." With a laugh at his own silliness, he spread the shirt out again, intending to put stain remover on the spot to soak when his eye caught a flash of red from his laundry basket. He reached down, lifting his own red shirt from the pile. He opened Jim's shirt and laid his on top before covering his with Jim's. He crossed the sleeves so that it looked like the two shirts were hugging. Partners... Lovers.

"I love you, Jim," he said softly, using his hand to rub Jim's shirt against his. "And I love you, Blair," he responded. "You feel good in my arms." He smiled. "You do too."

"Chief?"

He jumped, his heart in his throat. He spun around. "Jim?" he squeaked, his voice breaking.

"Who are you talking to?"

"Me? Talking? Just -- doing laundry," he blurted out, reaching behind him to bunch the two shirts in his hand. "You're home early."

"I finished my paperwork so I figured I'd come on home."

"How did you know where I was?"

Jim grinned, shaking his head in amusement. "Sentinel, remember?"

His eyes widened and he nodded quickly. "Oh, yeah! Right. Sorry. I'll ah, be done in a sec. You hungry?"

Jim's eyes narrowed as he stepped forward. "Definitely. I'm hungry all right." Jim reached out a hand to pull his arm forward and to remove the shirts he had in a death grip. "And it's not for food."

"What?" he whispered.

"I heard you. Heard what you said."

"Oh," he said softly, his head dropping.

A finger lifted his chin. "You know what I want to do about this?" He shook his head. Jim smiled. "I think I'm going to kiss you. And after that, I think I'm going to dance with you. How does that sound?"

He looked surprised for about half a second before he happily nodded. "I'd love for you to kiss me. And I'd also love to go dancing with you." He waited in anticipation when Jim moved closer and closer until he felt...

A hand shook his arm, and Jim's voice was exasperated. "Sandburg, wake up."

Blair opened his eyes and looked around. "What's wrong? Why are you up here?"

"I've been calling you for at least ten minutes. Then the phone rang and you still didn't wake up. I was worried."

Blair sat up and rubbed his face. "Darn. Sorry. I was dreaming."

"Again with the dreams? For heaven's sake, is that all you do? Dream?"

He shrugged. "Pretty much. You shouldn't have come up the stairs. I told you to take it easy."

"I'm okay. The ankle is still sore, but I babied it. I was worried about you." Jim gave him a concerned look, but didn't ask any more questions about his dreams. Instead, he said, "I'm going down to take a shower."

"I'll be right down."

"Okay," Jim said, turning to hobble to the top of the stairs. "And Sandburg?"

"Yeah?"

"As much as I love you, I am not taking you dancing."

\-------------------------------

Chapter Forty

"Blair, mate, you're extremely tense today. What's going on with you since we last spoke?" Dr. Doyle asked expectantly.

Concerned green eyes watched him intently. Blair shifted in his seat, his shoulders hunched around his neck. "It's -- nothing," he muttered, avoiding that intense, knowing gaze as he clenched and unclenched his hands.

"We can't do this if you're not ready. You need to be focused, and your mind has to be clear. If you want this to work to your advantage, you must be ready."

Doyle's tone was kind but firm, making Blair grimace with the knowledge that RD was right. With a sigh, he rubbed his fingers along his forehead, massaging his temple. After a moment, he glanced up at his friend. "Sorry, RD. Really... I admit, I'm not ready. Not today." At Doyle's nod, he let out a soft snort. "It's Jim, of course."

RD smiled. "Isn't it always?"

Blair nodded also. "Yeah, it is. I need help with this, and I think hypnosis will help. It's just that today..."

"You can tell me if you wish. You know that anything you tell me is kept in the strictest confidence." Doyle leaned forward, giving Blair a sympathetic smile. "I know you want this to work, and I know it will. You've been making great progress. We have time, and we'll work at your pace."

"Thanks." Blair leaned back, relaxing a bit. "I hear what you're saying. I thought I was getting a handle on this! But lately..." He sighed and rubbed his face, letting out a small groan. "Jim was so damned -- tense this week. He had to go undercover on a case, but that wasn't the reason. It was this guy... A classic case of road rage, and Jim just bought into it!" Blair leaned forward. "He was so pissed! I swear, if I hadn't been with him, he would have gotten physical. I've never seen him so far on the edge!"

"Would have?" RD echoed, giving Blair a questioning look.

Blair's gaze met his momentarily before he turned away from Doyle's discerning eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Okay. He did get physical. He had a vendetta going big time! It was so scary!"

"So what happened in the end?"

"In the end, Jim did the right thing. He solved the case, and the guy who was out to get him was brought to justice. Jim even saved his life."

Doyle nodded, giving Blair a satisfied smile. "So Jim did the right thing in the end. He controlled his rage, and he did his job."

"Well... yes," Blair said slowly, realization dawning. "Yeah, he did."

"We all lose control, but it's how we handle it that counts. I think it sounds like Jim is one of the good guys. He was on the edge, but he didn't fall. He took stock of what he was doing, and he acted properly."

Blair grinned, quickly agreeing with Doyle's assessment. He'd been so focused on Jim's initial reactions that he didn't clearly study Jim's ultimate actions. "Yes, he is one of the good guys, and he did do the right thing."

"And that's why you love him."

Doyle's observation was a statement, not a question, and Blair automatically started to protest, but caught himself at the last second. "I do," he finally admitted.

"Good. What do you say we do some breathing exercises, and then see if we can at least take that first step into self-hypnosis?"

"Cool. Sounds good."

"Let's close our eyes and practice our square breathing. Let your body relax. Let your mind clear..."

Everything was -- blue. He blinked, rubbing his eyes, surprised at the surreal quality of this particular -- dream. Somehow he knew he wasn't asleep, and for a moment, he wished he was, so that he could wake and shake off the feeling of dread that crept along his spine. This dream, vision, whatever, was odd. Usually, the dreams seemed so life-like. This was -- creepy. Fingers of fog tickled at his ankles, hiding his shoes, and he resisted the urge to lift his foot to verify that it was still there. With a snort at his own silliness, he glanced around.

The grass, the trees, even the sky looked like somebody had taken a couple of cans of blue paint and sprayed it haphazardly. The trees were blue-black, the grass took on a greenish-blue quality, while the sky was a quite pretty whitish-blue, with darker blue clouds swirling along on a background of lighter blue.

He glanced down at his own hand, wiggling the fingers. He laughed, ignoring the trace of hysteria in the sound. Even his skin was blue. A rather sickly, fleshy, blue color. Sticking out his tongue, he rolled his eyes downward, trying to see if it was blue as well. The snap of a twig brought his head up quickly, and his eyes searched the blue forest for the source of the sound.

A man stepped out of the thick brush and stood on the fringe of the clearing. His gaze searched the area until the narrowed eyes lit on him. He met the gaze steadily and raised a hand in greeting, but the man, dressed as a soldier in camouflage with a bandanna around his head, dropped to one knee. Fluidly, the man reached behind him and when his arm swung back to the front, he saw what the man held -- an arrow.

The hunter quickly seated the arrow onto the bow that he hadn't noticed the man was carrying and before he could move or shout, the arrow sailed through the air directly at him. The pain he felt when the arrow hit its mark made him cry out as it burrowed into his flesh. Mouth open in protest, he fell...

"Blair!"

"Wha...?" He blinked, opening his eyes. Swaying slightly in his seat, he rubbed at his eyes, wiping away the tears he didn't realize he'd shed. "What -- happened?"

RD's face was inches from his, and his friend's hands were clamped on his upper arms. "You went into a trance. Bloody hell, but you were in deep. Not for long, but definitely well into it. Are you okay?" Doyle released his arms and reached across the desk for a tissue, which he held out.

"Yeah. Thanks." Blair wiped his face and blew his nose. "Man, that was really strange."

"I've had some extremely sensitive people before whom I've helped learn to control their gift. Being able to descend into a trance is one thing, but it's the control that takes lot of work. From what I observed, you seem to be able to control a good portion of your physical and mental experiences. I think with a little work, you'll be able to control this gift as much as humanly possible. I am impressed." Handing Blair a glass of water, Doyle took his seat across from him. "I'd be happy to help you work through this experience. The fact that you descended into your own headspace without much prompting means you're extremely sensitive. One would think you've had some special training." Doyle looked at him curiously. "Or at least some sort of -- shall we say, assistance on the road to the astral plane."

After sipping the cool water, Blair considered what had happened for a moment before he said, "Thanks. I was -- freaked, but it is kind of cool when you think about it. I didn't tell you this yet... Hell, I've never told anybody. Jim knows because he was there, but he never mentioned it." Blair's words tumbled out, and his eyes widened as his breathing quickened.

"Hey, slow down and tell me what's got you so excited."

"When Jim's friend was killed, he died in our loft. He was a shaman from Peru, and right before he died, he..." Blair fidgeted in his seat, running a hand through his hair.

"Nothing you tell me will send me screaming from the room. Honestly, I've heard it all before," Doyle said encouragingly.

With a light, nervous laugh, Blair finally admitted, "He passed the way of the shaman onto me. In blood."

Doyle's eyes widened. "Really? Well... This changes everything. No wonder you have this gift. You've been touched. I've studied a little bit about shamanism, but this is way out of my league. I do know that the Native American Studies department might have somebody in their midst who knows their stuff about it."  
RD fell silent for a moment before he asked, "Did you say he touched you with blood while he said his incantation?"

"I like working with you, but if you think it will help, I'm willing to try and find somebody in Native-" Blair's words suddenly froze. "What? Blood? What incantation?"

Doyle gazed intently into his eyes. "Shamans' ways are hundreds, if not thousands of years old. And you know from your own studies that there are many spells and incantations. Don't you believe?" he suddenly asked, his tone deadly serious.

Blair sat silent for a long minute before he slowly nodded. "Yes... yes, I do. I just don't think... How could he...? Why me? Oh, hell."

With a quiet smile, Doyle asked, "You don't think you're worthy? That you can handle it? That in this day and age of computers and jets and mobile phones, that shamans don't even exist?"

Snorting softly, Blair had to smile. "All of the above? And none of them. Man, I do need help."

"I think you need to do what you do best -- research. In the meantime, we'll work on your meditation-self-hypnosis techniques. That will at least help you relax and it might very well be the way to explore your dreams."  
"Thanks, man. That's great. I appreciate any help you can give me. This is driving me nuts!"

After glancing at his watch, Doyle said, "I have more time today before my lecture session, so why don't you tell me what you saw? I can give you my input, if you like."

"Sure." Blair considered his words for a few moments before he said, "This was the second time that it's happened..." His gaze sought RD's and with a shudder, he added, "Today was the second time that I saw Jim kill me."

\------------------------

Chapter Forty-One

"Jim, what in the heck are you muttering about?" Blair asked as he watched his partner enter the bullpen, his face dark, his eyes narrowed.

"Nothing, Sandburg," Jim said, practically spitting out the words.

"Hey, man, don't get all caveman on me. I didn't do anything!" Blair threw out his hands.

Jim let out a long-suffering sounding sigh and rubbed his forehead before he muttered, "Sorry, Chief."

"Was it the Commissioner?"

"What do you think? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

Blair's eyes widened before he slowly nodded. "Oh, so you got blasted for Uncle Gustavo." Jim didn't respond, but his scowl told Blair the entire story. "That sucks, man! It wasn't your fault!"

Jim flipped open a file and stared down at it. "Save it. I let the old coot pull the wool over my eyes twice. Once was bad enough, but I fell for it twice!"

"Jim, when are you going to admit you're human, like the rest of us? You like the old guy, so you trusted him."

"Should have known better." Jim's jaw muscle twitched.

"You're way too hard on yourself. You saved Genevieve, and that asshole Lemec will rot in prison. You did a good thing, and Gustavo helped."

Jim's gaze found Blair's. "You always see the good side."

"Hey," Blair said, grinning, "Don't make it sound like a bad thing!"

HIs partner sighed again before he finally gave Blair a half-hearted smile. "It's not, Chief. It's a good thing. So did you find out anything on the Larson case while I was getting reamed by the Feds and my bosses?"

With a chuckle, Blair handed Jim his report so far. "I thought we'd have Jamaican food for dinner tonight."

Jim's mouth fell open, and he gave Blair a smack on the arm. "So much for understanding!"

Blair chuckled. "My compassion only goes so far."

Together, the partners laughed. It was only later, when Blair was lying in bed, his stomach not happy with the extra spicy food he'd eaten, that he finally fell into a fitful sleep...

The smell of hay and horses tickled his nose. With a jerk, he returned to consciousness. He raised his head and looked around. He knew instantly that he was in the Master's barn, but how he had gotten there was still a blur. He tried to move, but quickly realized that something wasn't quite right. With wide eyes, he looked up, seeing his hands firmly tied together, with the ropes anchored to a large hook high over his head. He yanked with all his might, but there was no give in the knots. He swayed, shocked even more when he realized that his feet were tied tightly at the ankles. Panicked, he struggled in his bonds. The results of his futile efforts were for naught, but for the pain that surged through his bound arms and wrists as his feet slipped from under him and his entire body weight pulled against his wrists. Regaining his feet, he stretched his arms upward, relieving some of the pressure on his bound wrists.

He heard the sound of footsteps and glanced toward them. He finally saw him. The Master, James Ellison. Master Ellison would release him! He endeavored to cry out, but the gag stuffed into his mouth muffled his cries. The foul-tasting rag made him gag. He tried to push it from his mouth, but another piece of material was tied tightly around his head, holding the balled material firmly in place. His stomach lurched at the horrible taste, and he forced himself to breathe through his nose as he ordered himself to calm down and not to retch.

His gaze once again returned to Master James, who stood very still, fifty paces away. With fright, he wondered why Master James, who had the ability to sense his presence, didn't rush forth to rescue him immediately. He struggled in his bonds, attempting to garner the Master's attention, but the Master was not focused on him, but something else entirely. The Master's cold eyes stared past him into the darkened space beyond. He turned his head toward where Master James' eyes were locked, but whatever held the man's interest was beyond his own line of vision. He swiveled his head back toward Master James, crying out against the gag. Finally, the Master's eyes shifted toward him and for a brief moment, their eyes met. He shivered at the cold eyes filled with rage that returned his pleading look. For a brief moment, he thought that the Master had been the one to treat him thus, and he shuddered with dread. But the Master's gaze quickly turned warm after a moment, and a half-hearted, encouraging smile tugged at the corner of Master James' mouth.

He sagged with relief as he blinked against the sweat beads that ran down his forehead and burned his eyes. He kept his gaze locked on Master James. He could see the silky white material of his shirt plastered to his body from sweat. His breeches were dirty and stained as if he had been in a brawl. Tears in various places showed white skin, some colored red with blood. That was when he saw it. The sword! James held the rapier in his fist, the knuckles white.

He cast a quick glance into James' face and saw that the man's focus had shifted again. He turned his head to search for the subject of Master James' interest and that's when he saw -- her! The bitch!

Before he could take another shallow breath, Mistress Maya stood next to him, her own sword held inches from his jugular. Her dark eyes held his, and when he shook his head in protest at whatever she had planned, she merely smiled, using the sharp tip of the metal blade to dig into his skin. He cried out, flinching at the pain. She smiled and her hand reached out. He felt her briefly touch the wound before he saw her draw back her hand, the fingertips colored red. With an evil smile, she licked the red from her own skin.

No! He tried to cry out, his mind tumbling in many directions. He wanted to demand that she release him. To demand that she leave and never return. To demand that she not harm his lover, his Master James. He vehemently shook his head, his eyes begging her to stop this madness, but she again smiled, a cold, dead, dreadful smile, and patted his cheek before drawing the sworn down his chest, leaving a trail of fire. With his eyes tearing at the pain, he turned toward Master James, who took a step forward. The sword swiftly moved, slicing through the ties of his breeches. The material fell away, revealing his undergarments. He heard a cry of protest from his lover and the pounding of feet. Master James was coming! He was saved. He turned to search for his lover, but James had made it only twenty paces when he slid to a halt. White fire burned his throat as she raked the tip of her sword against his skin. He screamed, a muffled, woeful sound.

"If you dare come near what is mine, I will kill him," Mistress Maya hissed, filling her hand with his hair and painfully pulling his head to the side. Once again, she jabbed him with the tip, drawing blood. Again, he cried out.

"You wouldn't dare!" he heard Master James growl. "You claim to love him!"

Maya's cold tone froze his blood as she directed her rage at James. "I loved him only to the point where he was mine, and a virgin to all. The minute you took him into your bed... The second you defiled him... When he was no longer pure and clean, untouched by woman... or man it seems," she added derisively, "then he was dead to me. Now he will be dead to you!"

This time, the sword bit deeply into his side, and again, he screamed into the dirty rag. He stiffened briefly, his eyes fluttering. He struggled to hold onto his consciousness as wave after wave of pain and nausea rolled over him. His stomach churned. If he retched now, he could surely die of suffocation, so he struggled to slow his wildly beating heart and his pounding head. He felt his consciousness leaving, and he sagged in his bounds. His head lolled forward. With the last bit of strength, he rolled his head sideways toward his beloved. From the corner of his blurred vision, he saw Master James rush forward, sword at the ready.

The sounds of clanging metal and grunts of exertion echoed in his brain. He forced his head up and his eyes to focus. The combatants dueled viciously. Master James had been schooled in the art of sword-fighting by his tutor using the code of honor, but Mistress Maya had been taught by the best swordsmen in Brazil using the code of 'kill first, then negotiate. She lacked honor, he knew.

Master James fought with his pure, loving heart, while the Mistress fought with her cunning and calculating heart. His wavering gaze never left the duelers, and when Master James took a vicious cut along his bicep, he thought the Master was lost to him. But the courageous man rallied and found his feet, albeit unsteadily, as the blood raced down his torso and stained his breeches a deeper brown.

He fought the blackness that clouded his vision with all his might, and the last thing he saw was the evil Mistress Maya moving in for the kill...

"My love!"

He opened his eyes to look into the warm gaze of his lover. Awareness slowly returned, and he realized James was covered in blood, as was he. They were on the floor of the barn, and he was being gently cradled in his lover's arms.

"James?" he whispered.

"Shhh. It is over. She is dispatched." James' fingers brushed down the side of his face. "One of the servants managed to escape from the wine cellar and has gone for the physician."

"You're... hurt!" he whispered, his throat painfully dry.

"Just a scratch. A few turns of the needle, and I will be stitched anew."

"I feel poorly."

"And I am well enough to carry you into the house so that you may be tended. The cut you sustained bleeds freely, but I think it is not life-threatening. You have lost much blood, though, so you are most likely light-headed. Not to mention hard-headed."

"Why do you tease me?" he asked, pouting slightly in spite of his pain.

Lips touched his forehead before Master James said softly, "I told you not to befriend that girl!"

"She was a student... far from home and needed a friend. What she thought was -- love from me was mere -- friendship. That is all we shared."

"I know, my love. I never doubted your tribute to me."

"I love you."

"And I, you. Now I shall carry you to our chamber for tending. Are you prepared?"

"Yes," he said softly, steeling himself for the pain. He felt himself being moved. The shards of pain lanced his torso, and he felt himself start to swoon, but knowing he was now safe in the arms of his lover, he did not fight the darkness. When he woke, the light would be at his side...

\----------------------------

The overhead light blinded him, and Blair was wrenched from a sound sleep by a growl of, "For heaven's sake, Sandburg, when are you going to stop with the melodrama?"

"What?" he asked, blinking stupidly. "Turn off that damned light."

"I've had just about enough of this."

"Sorry, Jim," Blair said contritely. "Really. I can't help it! The dreams just... come!"

"You know, I don't think they bother you as much as you claim. You always seem -- happy about them. Most of the time, anyway." Jim sat on the side of his bed.

Blair scooted over a bit, putting some distance between them. Right now, the feel of James' hands on him was still too real, too intense for Jim to be so close, and not notice his reaction. He casually raised his knees to hide his erection. "Some of them are -- nice. I admit it!" he said loudly. "Dreams are meant to be enjoyed some of the time."

"Can't you just find some hot girl to have sex with instead of dreaming about it all the time?" Jim groused. His look was one of tolerant amusement, making Blair bristle.

"Do you have to be so damned agreeable?"

Jim put out a hand and touched Blair's arm. "I worry about you, Sandburg. You rarely date any more. You spend all of your time at the station or at school. I think you need more of a social life. Get out more. Have a few beers. Date," Jim made Blair's previously used "tutoring" motions with his hands, leaving no doubt that Jim was implying Blair needed to be laid.

Blair crossed him arms, scowling. Before he realized what he was saying, he blurted out, "There is somebody. So there." He suddenly felt like a five-year old being interrogated by his mother. All he needed to do was stick out his tongue and the picture would be complete.

Jim snorted with amusement. "That's good. Maybe spending a few nights a week at her place will help with this -- problem."

Blair let out a long-suffering sigh and punched his pillow. "Go to bed, Jim." He waited until Jim rose before he added, "Thanks."

"Sure, Chief. Sleep -- quietly." With a chuckle, Jim left Blair to his dreams.

\----------------------

Chapter Forty-Two

"Why didn't you warn me what it was like on that island?" Blair muttered.

Jim snickered.

Blair cast a baleful glare at Jim, and even though he could see his partner's consternation about flying over open water, he was too irritated right now to care. "You are a dick." Again, that irritating snicker, which Blair ignored.

"You have to admit, I was right," said Jim.

"Will you stop bothering me and let me sleep if I admit that fact?" he asked snidely.

Jim's continued chuckling let Blair know that his friend was enjoying himself too much and was prepared to ignore Blair's snarkiness right now. "Told you she was trouble," Jim quipped, grinning from ear to ear.

"So you were right. Okay? You were one hundred percent right, and I have the bloody shirt to prove it." Blair turned his gaze toward his partner. Jim's grin was infectious, and he had to stifle the urge to grin in return. "Putz," he murmured under his breath, earning him a pat on the head.

"How's the nose?"

"Fine."

"Hurt?"

"No."

"Chief...?"

"Yeah?"

"You did good."

"Huh?"

Jim chuckled. "With the weapon. You were brave about the whole thing. You know... About everything."

Blair smiled, forgetting that he was supposed to be busy being mad at Jim for being right and then rubbing his nose in it. "Thanks." He yawned before he added, "Man, I can't wait to get home! I'm wiped out."

"I hear you. It's okay, though. In spite of the bad storm warning, we made it through."

"We did."

Jim gave Blair another warm smile and he smiled in return before leaning his head back. In a few moments, he drifted off to sleep...

They carried their bags up to the loft, and to his surprise, his partner didn't insist on doing the usual clean up and stowing of the equipment, but turned to him and gently took the bag from his fingers to drop it on the floor.

Wordlessly, he watched Jim closely. His friend gave him a strange look before he put a hand alongside his cheek and leaned in. He froze in place, his heart pounding in his chest, afraid to move, yet terrified at what Jim seemed to be doing. His eyes widened, and he forced himself to remain still until Jim's mouth was inches from his face.

"I... want you," Jim whispered.

He shivered at his partner's intense tone and slowly nodded. Jim's thumb stroked along his lower jaw as their mouths drew closer together. In his excitement, he moved forward a few inches, causing their mouths to bump into each other. His teeth accidentally scraped Jim's lip.

"Ouch!" Jim cried, pulling back, dabbing at the spot with a fingertip.

He saw a drop of blood on his partner's skin. "Oh, sorry!" he said quickly. "Damn. I'm so stupid sometimes!"

"No problem, Chief." Jim's reassuring smile warmed his heart.

Again, Jim started to move forward toward him. This time, he stayed still, letting Jim set the pace. His almost-lover's foot came down on his, making him jump. "Ouch," he said, moving back hurriedly. "My foot!"

"Sorry," Jim responded, reaching out a hand to help him as he hopped around on one foot. Jim's hand missed his arm and landed right on his nose.

Still sore from Monique's assault, he shouted aloud. His hand flew to his nose where fresh blood spurted freely from the damaged tissue.

"Oh, God!" Jim cried, rushing over to the sink to grab a hand towel. "Let me." Holding the towel to his face, Jim tried to staunch the bleeding, but managed to push back a bit too hard, forcing him to stumble backward and fall to the floor. He sat down with a thump, the dishtowel in his hand.

Glancing up, his eyes wide, he looked at Jim open mouthed. Jim looked down at him, his face a mask of shock. His hand reached up to his nose, which had, thankfully, already stopped bleeding. He glanced at the trace of blood before raising his face to catch Jim's contrite gaze. He started to chuckle before the laughter grew. Soon he was laughing so hard, he blew a few messy blood bubbles from his nose. That set him into the realm of hysterical giggles, which continued for a long minute. Finally, he gulped noisily and wiped his face with the towel he still had clamped in one hand. He planted a hand over his mouth, his eyes rolling up to look at Jim.

"I'm - fine," he said around a hiccup.

Jim sank to his knees and reached out a hand before hastily yanking it back. He saw his lover's abrupt motion so he stifled the laughter and shifted so he was kneeling.

"Now where were we?" he asked.

Jim shook his head. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'm such an ass!"

"Hey, quit beating yourself up. I'm fine. It's no big deal. Besides," he said with what he hoped was a seductive voice, "you were about to kiss me. So how about we try again?" He waited expectantly until Jim finally nodded. "Why don't I stay right here, and I'll just wait for you to... You know, plant one on me." He closed his eyes and waited... and waited... Until finally, he felt something warm and soft brush across his mouth. His eyes flew open and he saw Jim pulling away. He gave his companion a silly grin, which his lover returned with one of his own.

"That was nice," Jim said softly.

"Yeah, it was," he agreed, nodding happily.

"What do you say we...?"

Blair woke to a hand shaking his shoulder.

"What do you say we head toward home? I'm ready for a night of peace and quiet." Jim popped open the airplane's door and started to climb out.

Blair blinked the sleep from his eyes. "Sure. Sounds good to me."

Jim stopped and glanced over his shoulder, giving him a quick but thorough going-over before he finally said, "You are certainly in a better mood. You're not nearly as grouchy as you were when we first left Storm Island."

"I was not grouchy!" At Jim's smirk, Blair rolled his eyes. "Okay, maybe I was. But now I'm feeling pretty good."

With a chuckle, Jim climbed from the small plane with Blair close behind. Once they'd gathered their gear and thanked the pilot, they walked toward his partner's truck.

Jim asked, "So what was so funny?"

"What?"

"The dream. When you were asleep, you kept laughing. It was a bit -- creepy to hear you getting so involved in -- whatever, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself."

Blair tossed his bag into the bed of Jim's truck and before he climbed into the passenger seat, he stopped and looked at his partner over the bed, laughing aloud. With a shake of his head, he drawled, "You have no idea."

\------------------------------

Chapter Forty-Three

"You did that for me?" Jim's eyes were wide, and he licked his lips.

He nodded, rubbing his stomach directly below his belly button. "Yeah. All for you, man. It's all yours."

Jim nodded, moving closer. "Nobody's every done anything like that before for me. It is so -- fucking sexy." Jim dropped to his knees and gingerly, his tongue touched the small stone. "It's so damned arousing," he murmured, closing his eyes while his tongue continued its gentle exploration.

He gasped, his cock filling quickly. "For you. God, I love you!"

"Did it hurt?" Jim asked as his eyes flicked upward. Their gazes met.

"Nah. Well... Just a bit, but it's fine now. So you like it?"

"Like it?" Jim echoed. "It's wonderful. Is it real?"

Shaking his head, he admitted, "It's an Austrian crystal. I think it's as pretty as a real diamond, but I preferred this color on me better than a clear stone. It's like red ice. Hot and cold at the same time. I like it."

Jim nodded happily. "Nobody's every pierced anything for me before, Chief. I didn't think that a guy piercing his belly button would do anything for me, but you... With that crystal in your navel, it's amazingly sexy." Jim rose, his hand caressing through his long curls. "You're amazingly sexy," his lover said softly before he fused their mouths together.

Kissing passionately, Jim cupped his buttocks in large hands and lifted, encouraging him to wrap his legs around his lover's firm waist. He complied and was carried a few feet to the kitchen counter, where he was gently lowered down. Jim's mouth moved from his to place a trail of kisses down his shoulder and chest. With a detour at one of his nipples, he gasped when the nub was stroked with the warm tongue before moving down again. The tongue laved the newly pierced navel gently before moving onto his cock, where it thoroughly explored the thick flesh until he was shaking and coming into his lover's mouth. With his fingers still calmped around his wonderful lover's head, he waited until Jim looked up, grinning with delight.

"Love you, Chief."

"I love you, too, Jim..."

"Daydreaming, Sandburg?"

Blair blinked. "Huh?"

Jim chuckled. "The rings," he said, pointing at the display in the jewelry store window. "Thinking of asking some gal to march down the aisle with you?"

Blair held up his hands. "No way! I was thinking how those red stones remind me of Micki."

"How so?"

"She was involved with red ice. Get it? She was Russian... Reds? Ice... Diamonds?"

Jim rolled his eyes and ruffled Blair's hair. "You need some breakfast, Sandburg. Your body needs fuel so that your brain will work properly, because right now, it's off into the Twilight Zone."

With a laugh, Blair nodded. "So you're buying?"

"I might... if you're okay with me ordering a double stack of pancakes, sausage and my eggs over hard."

With a grimace, Blair glared. "What about your cholesterol?"

"Do you want me to buy or not?" Jim asked with a mock glare.

"I'm having a cheese omelet."

Jim laughed loudly, smacking Blair's arm. "That's my boy!"


	3. Chapters 44 thru 65

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Blair patted his full stomach and stretched out his legs. Leaning back in the truck's passenger seat, he sighed with contentment.

"Too bad Cassie had to leave before she could finish her meal," Jim mused, casting a devious smirk toward Blair.

Blair returned Jim's gloating grin with one of his own. "But we finished her lobster for her. And she paid!"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah!"

"I kind of feel bad about that," Jim admitted.

"Right. I could tell."

"I did! For about two seconds."

"So we'll make it up to her. Pull over."

"What?"

"Pull over in front of Ralph's. I'll run in and get her a plant for her office. As a thank you gift."

Jim grinned, pulling to the curb. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit coat. "Good idea! I'll toss in a five."

Blair took the bill from Jim's fingers. "Ten will buy a nice plant. Women like that sort of thing." After opening the door, he grinned at his partner. "After all, the meal cost her over a hundred bucks, plus another twenty for the tip. It's the least we can do."

Still grinning, Jim echoed, "The least, Chief."

Returning a few minutes later with a pot in his arm, Blair climbed into Jim's truck with a satisfied smile on his face.

"Nice plant. What is it?"

"It's a kalanchoe. It blooms pink flowers. She'll like it... and it was on sale. Half price. This beautiful plant was had for the small sum of five dollars."

"Where's my change?"

Blair snickered, setting the plant on the seat between them. "Dream on, cop man. Drive, James. My bed is calling me."

"Dork."

"Putz."

They laughed at each other, admiring the bargain plant. At home, Blair put the plant on his desk for safekeeping until they went into work the next day. He climbed into bed and from the light cast by the street lamp, he could see the little plant's outline from where he lay. He smiled as he fell asleep...

The apartment door opened and Jim walked in, holding something under his jacket.

"Hey, Chief."

"Jim," he acknowledged. "Glad you're home." He nervously moved the silverware around on the table he was setting. "Are you going out?" he asked, eyeing his partner's hidden bundle. "I mean, it's okay. After all, it's St. Valentine's Day, and I'd expect you to have a hot date." He folded the paper napkin one way, then another. "I mean, dinner can keep. I'll freeze it for another night." He moved the fork an inch to the left. "After all, you're a nice looking guy." He raised his head to see Jim still standing inside the door, an amused look on his face. "I don't mean nice-looking in a gay way! I mean in a macho, cop, gun-toting way!" Realizing that he was just digging himself a bigger hole, he finally threw up his hands. "Well, crap."

Jim grinned. "I'm not going out tonight, Blair. In fact, I think I'll stay in most nights for a good long while."

"What?" he asked, feeling as if he'd missed something. "I hope I didn't - What do you mean?"

"Tongue-tied tonight?"

He let out an irritated sigh and turned away. "Forget it." He started toward his room, but Jim was quicker, blocking his escape by crossing through the kitchen to ambush him in the small hallway.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Jim said quietly, holding out a huge bouquet of red roses.

His eyes grew wide. "Jim? Those are for me? But I thought... Really?"

Jim rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Yes, Blair. They are for you. I will say this in little words so there is no doubt. I love you. Got it?"

He nodded, taking the flowers and sniffing them deeply. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Me, too."

"Me, too what?"

He glanced up shyly. "Are you going to make me say it?"

Jim crossed his arms. "Damn right. So...?"

"I love you, you hard-headed, straight-laced, tight-assed-"

"How do you know?"

He looked at Jim with a shocked expression until he finally laughed. "You made a joke!"

"You know, Sandburg, I was right about you that first day down at the pier. You are a dork."

"Well, this dork would like a smooch."

Jim laughed and complied with his request.

\--------------------------

Chapter Forty-Five

Jim's words echoed in his head. "I think we should be just be friends." He let out an irritated sigh. After all, Jim had made the suggestion, and he'd just gone along, echoed his partner's words to Cassie. He tossed his dirty clothes into the laundry basket, grimacing at himself. The only reason, he finally admitted to himself, that he'd even flirted with Cassie was to keep his facade of a ladies' man firmly intact. There was no way on this planet that he would ever dream of letting Jim know about his attraction to him. "No way!" he said aloud, snorting softly. "Jim would flay me." He scooped up two more articles of clothing and after rolling them into a ball, pretended he was shooting a three-pointer in the Cascade arena.

"He makes the final jump-shot of the game! He scores!" Blair chortled as the shirts hit the basket. "The Jags win the playoffs!" A throat cleared; Blair looked up, blushing. "Oh, hey, Jim."

"You having a good time, Chief?"

"You want some of this?" Blair asked, puffing out his chest just as he had when Cassie had walked away from them in the hallway at the station after they'd all agreed to be "just friends". God, he hated that term!

"Bring it on," Jim said playfully, walking over to Blair and pushing out his own chest.

Blair allowed himself to enjoy the finely tuned muscles pushing against the thin material of Jim's old t-shirt before he grinned and again, they bumped against each other. Laughing loudly, Jim rumpled Blair's already messy hair.

"Hey, man. Not the hair!" Blair ordered, batting away his partner's hand. He gave in to the quick thought of Jim's fingers caressing through his hair in a more than ‘just friends’ manner. He ducked his head, hoping that his friend hadn't noticed his blush and returned his focus to gathering laundry.

"Night, Sandburg," Jim said, turning to leave.

Blair huffed out a quick breath, thankful that either Jim hadn't noticed or in the usual Ellison fashion, ignored what he didn't want to talk about. "Yeah, man. Good night. Sleep tight." Blair waited a few moments, listening to his partner walk up the steps and climb into bed. He listened intently, and when he was sure Jim was settled, he put the last few items in the basket and pushed it over next to the door, where he'd get to it first thing tomorrow.

Teeth brushed and face washed, Blair climbed into bed and clicked off the bedside lamp. He turned to his side and closed his eyes. The quiet night sounds reached his ears. The hum of the refrigerator. The click of the furnace as it kicked on for a few minutes. The whir of the fan of his laptop starting up. His eyes started to drift shut when he heard something else. He rolled to his back and lay very still, holding his breath. The tale-tell creak of bed springs from overhead. The soft moan, that drifted down from the open loft, and through his door, which stood ajar. With wide eyes, Blair swallowed hard. Jim was obviously taking care of business. He groaned, turning once again and buried his face in one pillow while clamping another over his head. He stayed very still and in his mind, he started to list the major Mayan sites on the Central American continent. Finally, he fell asleep...

"You want some of this?" he asked, puffing out his chest just as he had when Cassie had walked away from him and Jim in the hallway at the station after they'd all agreed to be "just friends". God, he hated that term!

"Bring it on," Jim said playfully, swaggering over to him with his chest pushed out comically.

He allowed himself a brief ogle at Jim to enjoy the finely tuned muscles pushing against the thin material of Jim's old t-shirt before he grinned and again, they bumped against each other. Laughing loudly, Jim rumpled his already messy hair.

"Hey, man. Not the hair!" he laughingly ordered, batting away his partner's hand. He gave into the quick thought of Jim's fingers caressing through his hair in a more than ‘just friends’ manner. He ducked his head, hoping that Jim hadn't noticed his blush, and returned his focus to gathering laundry.

"Chief?"

Fuck, Jim had noticed. One of the drawbacks of living with a Sentinel. Not raising his face, he asked, "Yeah?"

A hand touched his head, resting briefly there. "Look at me. Please."

He glanced up, holding the bundle of clothing tightly against his chest. He avoided Jim's gaze and rocked from one foot to the other. "What's up?" he asked, hoping his voice didn't sound as shaky to Jim as it did to him.

"Blair... I..."

"Hey, it's getting late. And I'm tired. Ah... 'night, man." He started to turn away, but before he moved barely an inch, two strong hands clamped down on his upper arms.

"You know that crap with Cassie wasn't for real. Don't you, Chief?"

"Wasn't it?" he asked, his voice soft.

"I'm a cop. You know that. It's not the smartest way to live."

He gathered his courage and raised his face, his gaze meeting Jim's. "Yes. I know. Trust me. I know."

"Blair... I do want to be just friends with Cassie."

"Whatever."

The hands shook him slightly. "Damn it to hell, Sandburg! Don't you get it?" Jim's voice was rough with emotion.

He intently examined Jim's face. It was troubled, but his eyes... Those clear blue, expression-filled eyes told him the truth. "I... I get it, Jim. It's cool."

"Oh, screw it." Jim yanked him roughly. When he bumped into his partner's chest, one of the strong hands moved to cup his jaw and tip his head back. Jim's mouth crushed into his. The kiss was far from gentle, but he loved it. After the initial kiss, Jim pushed back to look into his eyes, and the smile on his partner's face was amazing.

"Oh, God," he whispered, his fingers flying to his mouth. "This is... like breaking ground at a new site. So damned cool. Jim... Kiss me again!"

"Pushy little bastard, aren't you?" Jim said with a grin before they fell into each other's arms, kissing passionately.

Using all of his body weight, he pushed against Jim until his lover's legs hit the bed. With a good shove, Jim tumbled backward and he launched himself on top of his partner, melding their mouths together and driving his tongue into Jim's mouth. Soon they were ripping at each other's clothes and naked on top of the sheets. His partner's hands were everywhere, as were his, and all too soon, they were both coming...

"Jim!" Blair's eyes opened, and he sat up, a grimace on his lips. His sleep shorts were coated with semen and his hand was sticky.

"Sandburg?"

Blair's eyes widened when Jim burst into the room, his gun drawn. "Oh, man! Sorry! Just a dream!" He flung out his arms. "I'm okay!"

Jim's gaze raked over him, and his nostrils flared momentarily before he lowered the weapon and after a second, a grin spread across his face. "Cassie?" he asked in a smirking tone, pointing at the mess.

Blair ran a hand through his hair, raking it back from his face. "Ah, yeah. You know those wet dreams. I hate them."

Jim shook his head with amused exasperation. "Go to sleep, Chief. It's 2:30 in the morning, and I have to be in court by nine."

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Being you."

"Sandburg, once again you have firmly shown that you are indeed a dork. Go to sleep." Jim waggled a finger at him.

"Night, man."

"Sleep quietly, Chief."

\-------------------------------------

Chapter Forty-Six

"Simon, where's Jim?" Blair asked, unable to keep the note of concern out of his voice.

"He went that way," Simon responded, waving a hand haphazardly over his shoulder.

"Which way? Where?" he demanded, irritation quickly rising. "After all he's been through, you let him walk away alone?"

"Sandburg," Simon growled, "You are not his keeper! He said he wanted some fresh air!"

"Whatever, man," Blair groused, turning to trot off into the night in the direction that Simon had indicated. He hurried along the darkened roadway, intently listening for any sounds that would tell him where Jim was. "Jim!" he finally called. "Come on, Jim! It's the middle of nowhere, and it's cold out!" He stood still along the shoulder of the road, knowing that his partner would find him before he could ever find Jim.

Suddenly, a hand touched his shoulder. Blair jumped, pressing a hand over his heart. "Shit!" He spun around. "Jim? Are you okay?" In the dark, with only the stars for light, he had trouble seeing his partner's face.

"I'm fine," Jim answered shortly.

"You don't sound fine."

"Leave it."

"When are you ever going to talk to me? I'm your friend!" He squinted in the dark, seeing Jim dig his fingers into his eyes and rub. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Not really."

"Let's take a walk."

Jim started down the empty road, slowly shuffling his feet.

"Was it bad?" Blair asked.

"You have no idea. Being locked up like that... The rules and regulations aside, the hate and violence..."

Blair walked beside his friend, silent for a few moments before he said, "Different than in the military? There are plenty of rules and regulations, right?"

"I don't know how to explain it... Unless you experienced it first-hand, I doubt you'd understand. I was nameless and faceless. Prisoner X, worth nothing to anybody..."

"I've been in some isolated places before-"

"Not like this. Listen, just go home. I'll be there soon. I just need some time alone."

Blair stopped, shoving his hands into his pockets. He turned and could just see the lights from the prison about half a mile back. "If you're sure..."

"It's five miles to town. I'll walk."

"It's not-"

"Sandburg..." Jim said warningly.

Blair sighed. "Okay, Jim. I'll meet you at home."

Jim didn't respond, but turned and walked away. Blair stood, listening to the sound of his friend's footsteps until he could no longer hear them. Then he turned as well and walked slowly back to catch a ride with Simon.

\----------------------

Once home, Blair wandered around, brewing a fresh pot of coffee in case Jim wanted a cup when he got in. He flicked on the television, only to turn it off minutes later. Finally, he laid down on the sofa and drifted off into a dream-filled sleep...

"Jim, are you okay?" he asked, seeing the bruises coloring his partner's face. "You need to have the doctor take a look at you. Come on, man. It's freezing out here!"

"Sandburg, just leave it! I'm fine. Go back to town with Simon. I'll catch you later."

"No way! I'm not letting you out of my sight!"

Jim rubbed his forehead before he covered his face with both hands. "I don't want your company!" he said bitingly from behind his palms. "Get lost!"

He moved closer. "No."

Jim's hands fell away. "What?"

"I'm your friend. I'm not leaving you alone after such a trauma."

"There was no trauma."

"No trauma? Who are you kidding? You were locked up with hardened criminals. You were forced to fight for your life! You were almost killed! That's traumatic!"

Jim stood silently, his jaw muscle twitching and his hands clenched into fists. "Jim, you need me to help you. I'll talk you through some relaxation exercises. You need a hot bath and some food in you, and I'm going to take care of you. Whether you like it or not."

Jim finally nodded and slowly turned toward him. "You're not going to drop this, are you?"

He grinned, shaking his head. "Nope. Now come on." He tugged on Jim's sleeve until his friend finally relented and slipped an arm across his shoulders. He wrapped an arm around Jim's waist and led him to Simon's car, where he opened the back door and they both climbed in. "Simon will take us home." Jim nodded, resting his head back against the seat. When Jim closed his eyes, he said softly, keeping his voice calm and even, "Good. Close your eyes and relax. Take in a deep breath and hold it for a few moments. Now exhale. Repeat it again. Rest your hands on your thighs and concentrate on your breathing." He led his partner through several relaxations techniques until Jim visibly settled down. Blair smiled, rubbing his partner's arm gently. "Good job, Jim."

"Thanks," Jim offered quietly. "I feel a bit better."

"I'll bet you're hungry."

"Yeah. And I'd love a hot shower."

"I think a nice soak in the tub is more in order. When we get home, I'll fix you something to eat while you soak."

Jim's eyes opened and with a sideways glance, he was finally rewarded with a faint smile from his partner. "You're a good friend, Chief."

"Thanks. Now why don't you catch a nap? I'll wake you when we get home."

"I am tired."

"Put your head on my shoulder."

Jim looked at him quizzically. "Don't look at me in that tone of voice," he muttered, patting his shoulder. "Just do it, man." Jim looked at if he was going to refuse, but after a momentary hesitation, he finally relented, resting against him.

"Comfy?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jim replied.

He cleared his throat softly, before he finally said, "Love you."

Jim patted his leg. "Me, too."

He smiled, and as Jim slowly relaxed against him, he reveled in the touch of his partner's body against his... The warmth of Jim's deep, even breathing on his neck made him grin. A few moments later, Simon climbed into the driver's seat. He glanced into the back and with a nod at him, he turned his attention to the road.

"Is he okay?" Simon asked.

"He will be."

"Good job, Sandburg..."

\-------------------------

The front door opened, waking Blair. "Jim?"

"Yeah," Jim answered.

"Hey," Blair said, rising. "Coffee?"

Jim paused before he finally nodded. He walked over to the sofa and sank into the cushions.

"Here you go. Nice and hot."

"Thanks, Chief." Jim sipped the hot brew. "It's good," he said in a somewhat surprised voice.

"Are you okay?" Jim shrugged. "How about a nice soak in the tub? It will help relax you."

"I don't-"

"I insist," Blair said firmly. "Then you'll have a bowl of soup; then bed. Okay?" He rose and stood, arms crossed, in front of Jim.

Jim looked up, giving Blair a ghost of a smile. "Sounds good, Sandburg."

Blair rubbed his hands together. "I thought you'd see it my way. You wait right there, and I'll start the bath."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Blair stopped behind the sofa and put his hands on Jim's shoulders. "It's good to have you back."

"Trust me when I say that it's good to be home." Jim glanced around the room. "Damned good."

\---------------------------------

Chapter Forty-Seven

"Okay, man. Sit here," Blair patted the floor next to him. "Grab a pillow so your butt doesn't get numb."

Jim chuckled, dropping a pillow on the floor before he sat down, crossing his legs.

"Good. Does the incense or candle scent bother you?" Blair asked solicitously.

"Nah. It's fine."

"Cool. Now close your eyes and clear your mind. Getting into a meditative state takes practice. That's what Corinna was able to do to channel Oshun. It will probably take a few times for you to really drop deep enough to go into a trance, but with some practice-"

"Sandburg, will you get on with it? I don't need a forty minute lecture for a five minute meditation session." Jim cast a mildly exasperated glance at him.

"Okay. Okay. Listen to the sound of my voice." Blair closed his own eyes and let out a cleansing breath. "Breathe normally. Clear your mind of everything. Think of something calming and relaxing. The ocean... A pretty blue sky with white fluffy clouds..."

"The Jags winning the playoffs," Jim offered.

Blair snorted. "Not hardly, Jim. Fun, but not relaxing. Rubbing your fingers through a puppy's warm, soft coat..."

"I like that one," Jim said, his tone sounding a bit wistful to Blair.

"Okay. Let's go with that one. A soft, warm puppy... Brown, curly hair. A warm black nose. You stroke its fur and it licks your hand... Its big brown eyes look up at you with love... Picture it... Now feel it under your hands. Its heartbeat and its tiny respirations. Delicate ribs and soft padded feet..."

"Hey, Jim," he said, rising from the sofa to greet his roomie's return from work. "What the heck? Is that a puppy?"

Jim dropped his keys in the basket beside the door and pushed the door shut with a foot. In his left arm was cradled a small brown puppy. As Jim approached, he saw the creature was comfortably settled on his partner's arm with its feet hanging down on either side, and it was sound asleep. He approached, smiling widely, and stroked the soft fur.

"Oh, man. It's so cute! What's his name?"

At the sound of his voice, the puppy woke. It blinked slowly and yawned, revealing tiny white teeth and a pink tongue. The puppy looked around the room, its face radiating curiosity. When the critter spied him, it suddenly came to life, animated and wiggly. Jim held out the puppy and with a grin, he said, "Happy Birthday. He's yours... if you want him."

"Really?" he said, happily taking the bundle into his arms. The puppy practically crawled up his shirt to lick at his chin. Laughing, he tilted his head back while the puppy continued its bathing of his neck. "He's adorable! I can really keep him?"

"Of course. Brown's dog had puppies eight weeks ago, and I had him hold one for you. And it's a she, Sandburg."

"She's wonderful. Thanks so much." He looked into Jim's eyes and felt his own suddenly prickle, emotion overtaking him. He ducked his head and buried his face in the soft fur. It tickled his nose, making him smile. A hand touched the back of his head, and he closed his eyes when the fingers stroked his hair.

"You're a good friend, Jim," he whispered, reveling in his partner's touch.

"I hope I'm more than that to you, Chief."

He raised his head. "You're -- much more. This is so great. I think I'll call her Latte."

Jim chuckled and moved his hand from Blair's shoulder to the puppy's back. He scratched her while he nodded approvingly. "She is the color of coffee with cream, isn't she? She loves you already," Jim added, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Just like me."

"This is the best dream I've had yet," he said softly. "Please don't end. Please don't end. Please..."

Blair shivered, coming out of the trance with a jolt. He blinked his eyes and cast a glance over at Jim, who was still deep in his meditation journey. He hastily wiped the tears from his face and carefully rose so as not to disturb his friend. With quiet steps, he walked toward the bathroom. At the door, he stopped and glanced back at Jim. At the man he loved.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this," Blair whispered before going into the bathroom where he could hide the sounds of his sorrow under the spray of the noisy shower.

\--------------------------------

Chapter Forty-Eight

Jim popped the top from his beer and put his feet up on the coffee table. Blair joined him on the sofa, reaching for the beer that Jim had considerately brought along for him. He twisted the top and tipped the bottle back, downing half of it in one gulp.

"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked absentmindedly, hitting the television remote's buttons until he settled on the sports channel. With a smile, he settled back.

Blair glanced at the screen, watching the women's beach volleyball players for a few moments. Lithe, strong bodies flashed before his eyes. Firm thighs and even firmer breasts cavorted on the screen. One of the players spiked the ball... The one with red hair. He abruptly rose, downed the rest of the bottle and walked throughto the kitchen, slamming the empty bottle on the counter top. Before Jim had a chance to react, he was out the front door, which he shut behind him with a satisfyingly loud thud.

Moving quickly, he was down the steps and out into the cold night air in a matter of minutes. He barely paused on the sidewalk before he took off toward the waterfront at a dead run. Blair pumped his arms while his feet pounded against the pavement. The frosty night air did little to cool his anger. His cheeks flamed and his lungs burned, but he continued on until he reached the park located more than a mile from Prospect Street. With his chest heaving from exertion, he finally forced himself into a brisk walk.

The walking path that wound through the park was deserted on the cold, dark night, but Blair didn't care. He ignored his common sense about being in the park after dark in spite of the recent rash of muggings and shoved his hands into the pocket of his lightweight jacket. The sweat on his face made him shiver as the sea breeze brushed his skin, but still, he refused to turn toward home.

"She so fucking perfect!" Blair groused aloud. "And now she's gotten her hooks into Jim! I can't believe he's going off with her this weekend." He gritted his teeth. "Now I know why she transferred to Spokane! So there wouldn't be any inter-departmental hanky-panky. Now the way is clear. She can date Jim without any repercussions. I am such an idiot!"

Blair's feet carried him farther away from the loft while the words Cassie said on her departure from Cascade echoed in his ears: Blair, sweetie, we're too much alike for this to work! We're practically mirror images of each other! We like the same food, the same music, the same lifestyle! I need to go now before things get -- awkward. Then she'd kissed his cheek and left, a cloud of expensive perfume marking her departure to her new assignment in Spokane. The bitch! What she didn't tell him was that not only did they like a lot of the same things, that they also liked the same man -- Jim! He was so stupid! Because he couldn't have Jim, he had been willing to settle for Cassie. He would have been -- okay with her. At least, he'd convinced himself that he would have been all right with a substitute for his one true love.

"Bitch," he muttered again. "I minored in cryptography," he sing-songed, mimicking Cassie's irritating voice. "Look at me; I'm Miss Wonderful. I took classes in design. I rebuilt my own engine and outfitted my van to be a mobile crime lab. I can run a murder investigation without detectives. I just happen to have a beta version of the newest software in forensic identification!" He kicked a stone with the tip of his shoe. "And she managed to snag something I can't have. She has Jim."

He stopped on the path, covering his face with his hands. He heard the snap of a twig, but before he could turn, blinding pain lanced through his head and his world instantly went black...

From far away, he heard a voice... Intently listening to the calming tone, he zeroed in on the familiar sound and with a bit of a struggle, forced his heavy eyelids open. Blinding light assailed his pupils, and he moaned softly, vainly trying to lift a hand to cover his eyes.

"Shhh. Settle down," the voice said. "I'm here."

He swallowed around the dry lump in his throat and tried to talk, but no words emerged.

"Open your mouth. I have some ice."

He screwed up his face, thinking. Ice, oh yeah. Cold and wet. Ice he could handle. Opening his mouth, he sighed gratefully when the cold cube entered. He sucked eagerly, swallowing the cool liquid. After it disappeared, he opened up again, and again, another piece was delivered. Finally, after this one dissolved, he felt a bit better.

"Jim?" he croaked.

"Sandburg... Blair. Yeah, I'm here."

A hand clumsily patted his chest. This time, when his eyes opened, the room was dimmer and he was able to focus his sight. "Thanks," he whispered.

"Damn it, Chief. You scared the shit out of me!"

"What happ- happened?"

"You were mugged! Why did you run off like that?"

"Moving out."

"What? You're not making any sense? Who's moving out? Me? You?"

He focused his gaze on Jim's. "Me. Out of the way. Make room."

"Sandburg, you have a concussion. You have a goose egg the size of a basketball on the back of your head. Just take it easy. I'll get the doc, because you're definitely not making any sense." Jim's concern radiated from his entire body.

"Jim?"

"I'm here. See? I'm touching your arm?"

"Oh. Okay. Right. What happened?"

"You were an asshole. You ran out of the loft for some stupid reason, and you got yourself hurt!"

"Stop yelling at me!" He groaned. "Ow!"

"I'm not yelling!"

"Jim?"

A huge sigh reached his ears. "Yes, Sandburg."

"I'm sorry."

There was a long pause before Jim finally said, "It's okay. I'm glad you're going to be all right." After another pause, his friend asked, "Why did you run out?"

He sighed softly and licked his lips. Turning his face away from Jim's intent gaze, he finally admitted, "Cassie."

"Cassie?"

He nodded.

"Why?"

"You and..." He couldn't say it. He just couldn't connect Jim with her. If he said it aloud, it would be true, and he was so fucked.

"She's... okay."

"Do you... lo... lo... like her?" he said softly.

"Blair, look at me."

When he turned his head and finally looked into Jim's eyes, he saw something -- different there. "What?" he asked.

"I don't know... I'm not sure... Oh, hell." Jim looked uncomfortable for a moment before he scooted his chair closer to the bedside and rested his elbows on the mattress. He leaned over and said softly, "When I found you... lying there and bleeding, I knew I couldn't go to Spokane. Knew I didn't care a rat's ass about her. It's you, Chief. Has been for years now. It's you I want beside me and with me. Always. So no more stupid stuff over stupid women, okay?"

He blinked rapidly, hoping to stop the ridiculous tears that threatened to fall, and he nodded, wincing at the stab of pain. "Yeah," he said, his voice breaking. "Me and you, Jim. I'm sorry. I couldn't handle -- you being with her. Couldn't."

Jim smiled. His hand reached out to stroke his hair. "No more running away. It might be hard for me to talk about -- stuff, but it isn't easy for you either, is it?" He carefully shook his head, causing Jim to smile. "So now we at least try to communicate. No more bolting into the night... or the day for that matter. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Now go to sleep. They're going to wake you every hour to be sure your brain isn't in meltdown, and we've wasted thirty minutes of your sleep time."

He closed his eyes, smiling. "Not wasted, Jim. Love you." He felt the mattress shift slightly, then warm lips pressed against his forehead.

"You too... Blair."

Still smiling, he drifted off...

"Sandburg? Come on, buddy. Open those baby blues."

"What?" Blair muttered, batting at the hand that patted his cheek. "Go 'way."

"That's it. Time to wakey-wakey."

Blair opened one eye. "What happened?"

"You were mugged, Einstein. What the fuck did you think you were doing? Of all the stupid, dumb, not to mention, ridiculous things! What was with the hissy fit?"

"Fuck off."

"Chief, I swear, one of these days..." Jim's eyes narrowed and he glared. With his arms crossed, he loomed over Blair and refused to back down. "I was worried about you!"

Blair glanced around, seeing the curtains of the emergency room swaying and the usual hospital sounds of people coming and going, of patients calling out, and of squeaky carts being pushed across linoleum. "Sorry," he muttered, trying to sit up. "I'm fine," he added, but as he rose, the room started to spin. He closed his eyes and put out a hand, which was quickly grasped by Jim's strong, warm one.

"Lie back, Sandburg, before you take a header."

"Oh, man. I feel sick."

"You have a concussion."

"No shit." Blair closed his eyes and willed his stomach to stop churning.

"Listen, Chief..." Blair peeled one eye open and waited. "I'm sorry." He sighed, watching Jim shift from one foot to the other. "I know why you're pissed."

"Oh?"

"It's about Cassie. About her and me. I don't want her to come between us. Your -- friendship means a lot, more than anything I could have with her, so..." Jim shrugged.

Blair examined his friend's face for a long minute before he finally admitted, "I was jealous."

"Of what?" Jim asked, surprise registering on his face.

He shrugged. "Losing you. Your friendship."

"Never, Chief. You're my partner. My -- you know, for my senses. You ground me," Jim said haltingly.

Blair smiled at his partner's obvious embarrassment at what Jim considered spilling his guts. "Hey, it's cool. Thanks. You're my -- whatever also," he added, waving a hand. "My friend. Always, Jim."

"The doc says if you feel up to it, you can leave as long as I keep an eye on you tonight. I agreed to make sure you don't die in your sleep."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "If you're sure... Thanks, I think. But I would like to go home."

Jim smiled, holding out a hand. "Let's get you dressed and home. I'll make you tea."

He gave Jim a grateful smile. "That sounds really good."

\-------------------------------

Chapter Forty-Nine

Blair held up his beer bottle, smiling at his partner. "Good work, Jim!"

Jim grinned in return, clinking his bottle against Blair's. "Like the lady said, they couldn't have done it without Cascade's best team."

Blair wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Well, I wouldn't go quite that far!" With a toothy grin, he explained, "She didn't exactly say we were Cascade's best team. Just that she couldn't have done it without us working as a team."

"More or less," Jim added, holding up one hand toward the bartender and waving his empty bottle.

The bartender nodded, and in a few moments, two fresh, cold brews were set down by a friendly server.

"Thanks," Jim said with a nod, handing the woman a twenty dollar bill. "Keep the change."

"Feeling generous tonight?" Blair asked, sipping the cold beer.

Jim shrugged, drinking from his own bottle. "I think I'll order a burger."

"Jim, man, think of your-"

"Save it, Chief. I'm hungry after all that activity today."

"Okay, okay. I'm hungry too. Man, that was something. Talk about Finkelman's Folly! It's a wonder it all worked out."

"No shit. No big thanks to Finkelman. But what the hell? We all want to advance our careers."

"You've done a few stupid things in yours, if I recall." Blair gave Jim a snickering grin, which Jim ignored.

"Think I'll have the burger rare."

"At least let them cook the darned thing!"

Jim looked mischievously at Blair and gleefully stated, "Rare, it is."

All Blair could do was shake his head and roll his eyes.

\--------------------------

The truck lurched to a stop alongside the busy road. Jim leaned his head on the steering wheel and groaned.

"Jim! What's wrong?"

"Sick. God... I'm going to-" Jim shoved the truck's door open and started to lean out.

"Watch out!" Blair cried. Jim jerked back as a tractor trailer lumbered by, horn blaring. "Get out my side. Jim!"

Nodding as he held his hand over his mouth, Jim barely managed to slide out and take a few steps before he leaned over and vomited into the ditch.

"Oh, man. It was that burger. I just know it!" Blair groused. Jim moaned in response, holding his head with one hand. "Do you have a headache?" Jim nodded. "Cramps?" Again, he nodded. "You have food poisoning." The sideways glance his partner gave him clearly showed disbelief. "Trust me, man. Onset within an hour of eating. Cramps, vomiting, headache... You'll probably have a bout or two of diarrhea as well." Jim's eyes widened and he shivered.

Blair moved quickly. "Come on, let's get you home before it hits. In." He guided his ailing friend to the truck and helped him in. "Here. Use this if you start to feel sick again. I know you don't want to mess up your truck." Blair handed him a grocery bag after he removed the bread and milk they'd bought at the convenience store when they stopped for gas. "You okay?"

"Peachy," Jim muttered before he grabbed the bag to hold over his face.

"I hate to say this, but we'll have to make a quick stop again." Jim's glare made Blair pat his arm lightly. "We'll need some ginger ale or some Gatorade. Something to knock those electrolytes back into balance once you're done barfing your guts out."

"You're all heart, Sandburg," Jim whined, his eyes tearing. "My head is killing me."

"I told you not to eat raw meat!"

"Might have been the lettuce, or the mayo."

Blair shook his head, and after making sure the roadway on the driver's side was clear, he trotted around the back of the truck and climbed in to drive his partner home.

Once inside the loft, he did his best to make his uncooperative patient comfortable. After he finally got his testy Sentinel into bed, he put a cold compress on his head and set a clean bucket beside the bed just in case his stomach rebelled again. Jim tossed and turned for several hours while Blair went downstairs to take a quick shower and fix some peppermint tea in case Jim's stomach settled enough to tolerate a bit of the soothing brew.

"Here you go. I made you some tea."

"No, thanks... Just go away. Okay, Chief?" Jim turned to his side and curled into a ball. "I'm sick."

"No shit," Blair muttered. "Listen. I'm right here if you need anything. Just call. Water. Juice..."

"Please!" Jim said roughly, cutting off Blair's litany of useful fluids before he let out a small moan. "And turn out the light. It's killing my eyes."

"Okay. Sorry. Thought I was helping." Blair let out a sigh and turned toward the stairs, clicking off the lamp on the way. With a last glance at his suffering friend, he went to his room, wishing that just once in a while Jim would ask for his help, or at least pretend that he was somewhat grateful for his concern and assistance.

As he climbed into bed, he shook his head and berated himself. "He's not feeling well. Geez, Blair, get a grip. He does appreciate you, in his own way. Just because you want some touchy/feely crap doesn't mean everybody else does." As he lay under the covers, he tuned into his friend. Not hearing anything from overhead, he hoped Jim had fallen asleep. Blair rolled to his side and tried to get comfortable. "Jim loves you in his own -- manly way. He pats your cheeks and smacks your arm. Oh, well. Such is life."

Blair lay for many minutes, listening in the dark before he finally fell asleep...

Jim leaned over the ditch and retched as he held an arm across his stomach.

"Jim! I can't believe this! Are you okay?"

"No! I'm sick. What the hell is wrong with me? I was fine an hour ago!" Jim paused to vomit again, before he wiped his hand across his sweating forehead.

"Blinding headache? Stomach cramps?"

"Thank you for the list, Dr. Kildare."

He leaned against the truck's fender and crossed his arms. "Jim, you have food poisoning."

"Do not," Jim said before moaning softly. "I feel like shit."

"Trust me on this, man. You have the classic symptoms."

"The burger, you think?" Jim held out a hand and closed his eyes.

He moved quickly, grabbing Jim's hand and cupping his elbow with his own hand. "Whoa, man. Take it easy. Come on, let's get you home."

"Thanks, Sandburg. You'd better drive."

"No shit, Sherlock," he muttered, earning him a glare from Jim. He grinned. "Sorry."

"I can see the sympathy oozing from your pores, Chief." Jim looked white as he climbed into the truck and put his head back on the headrest, closing his eyes.

"Take it easy. I'll look after you."

Jim nodded. "You're a good friend."

"It will be over in twenty-four hours, but for a while, you're going to feel like crap."

His partner gave him a scowl. "Already do."

With a snort, he closed the passenger's door and after being sure the roadway was clear, he climbed in the driver's door and cranked the engine.

"I'm going to make a pit stop, Jim."

"What for?" Jim asked, speaking quietly, he was sure, to avoid hurting his already aching head.

"You're going to need fluids big time. Ginger ale, maybe some of the Pedialyte or Gatorade. Need to keep you hydrated. And some bottled water. I think we're out at home."

"Don't want to drink anything."

"I know, but you will in a bit. It will be a long night, but by breakfast-"

"Oh, God. No breakfast."

He chuckled. "No breakfast, but you'll need to eat by tomorrow night probably, and I want to get something easy on your stomach. I'll be quick, five minutes. We'll just hit the convenience store down from the loft, and you'll be home in your bed in twenty minutes."

"You're -- great, Chief. Nobody has ever looked after me like you. Nobody."

"Not even Carolyn?"

Jim harrumphed. "Trust me, Simon looked after me more than Carolyn ever did. But you... You're special."

He glowed with the praise. "Thanks." Pulling into a parking space next to the front door of the store, he said, "Stay put. I'll be very quick." Before Jim could respond, he was out and as promised, back and heading toward home in under ten minutes, where he tucked his partner into bed.

"My head hurts," Jim whined.

"Be right back." He dashed down the stairs, returning quickly with a cloth and a pan of cool water. "Rest. I'll wipe you down." Jim nodded, so he carefully pushed up Jim's t-shirt and wiped his sweaty chest. Rinsing the cloth, he then ran it over his neck and face before rinsing it again and laying it on his forehead. "Feel better."

"Not much. Kind of tired."

"See if you can sleep, and I'll make you some tea in a bit."

"Okay." Jim reached out and grabbed his hand. "Thanks... Blair. I... You're the best."

He smiled. "You too. Now sleep."

"Want you to rest also... Had a big day today."

"I will. Later. Shhhh," he said softly, gently rubbing his hand on Jim's arm. In a few minutes, Jim's breathing evened out into sleep. He leaned down and pressed warm lips to Jim's forehead. "Love you, man."

He started when Jim, instead of being asleep, smiled and whispered, "Love you, Chief..."

The smell of freshly brewed coffee brought Blair out of a sound sleep. He rolled out of bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen to see Jim leaning against the counter.

"How do you feel?" Blair asked.

"Rough, but I'll live."

"I'd pass on the coffee if I were you after last night. There's apple juice. It's easy on the stomach."

Jim smiled. "Thanks. I'll have some juice. The coffee is for you."

Blair smiled. "Thanks, man. That's nice of you considering how crappy you must be feeling."

With a shrug, Jim pulled a cup and a glass from the cupboard. "You took good care of me, so I'll live."

"That's what friends are for," Blair responded, pouring a cup of the coffee after he pulled the unopened apple juice container from the cupboard. "Here you go. Drink slowly," he said, handing Jim the glass that he'd poured.

"You're a good friend, Blair. In case I don't say it enough... thanks." Jim smiled.

Blair was yet again taken back by the vulnerability on Jim's face, something he unsuccessfully tried to hide from Blair and the world at large. He looked intently into Jim's eyes, and saw his friend's silent pleading for Blair's acceptance. He examined the strong face that he loved for a few moments before he nodded, a smile crossing his face. "You're welcome. Now how about you sit down, and I'll make you a nice piece of toast, if you're up for that." He didn't bother to hide his pleasure at his partner's kind words, and he smiled at Jim's relieved sigh.

"Now that I can handle," Jim responded.

With a contented heart, Blair fixed a light breakfast for his partner.

\------------------------------

Chapter Fifty

As the elevator doors closed, Blair tossed a fake punch at Jim, lightly connecting with his mid-section. Jim dramatically doubled over, letting out a rush of air before returning with an upper left to Blair's shoulder. Blair rolled with the punch, pretending to be driven backward by the force of Jim's blow. He hit the elevator panel with an elbow, and the car lurched to a stop with a grinding bump.

Blair's eyes widened, and his hand flew up to cover his mouth. At what must have appeared to be a terrified look in his eyes, Jim immediately rose and grabbed Blair's elbows.

"Wow, Chief. Settle down. It's okay," he added soothingly. "It's okay." Reaching around Blair, he punched the resume button.

Both men stood silently, looking past each other's shoulders as they waited for the elevator to move. When nothing happened, their gazes met and Blair trembled.

"Oh, shit," he whispered. "I can't believe...! I'm so sorry... God, Jim get me out of here, please!"

"Geez, Sandburg, you're okay! I'm here, and we'll be fine!" Jim said harshly. "Now get a grip."

"Okay. Okay," Blair muttered, shaking off Jim's touch. "I'm sorry. It's just... With everything... I've done this before, in case you've forgotten. It's just not fair! Why do these things have to happen to me! Why?" Blair turned and started to pace the small enclosure.

Jim pulled his cell phone and dialed. His face turned sour when he snapped it closed. "No reception."

Jim's exasperated sigh and his sour face clearly told Blair that Jim felt he was definitely overreacting, but Blair didn't care. He was angry and upset, and it wasn't just because they were stuck in an elevator. He'd lost a very good friend, and the sympathy he got from his partner was minimal, at best. But what did he expect? Hugs and caresses? Words of reassurance that Jim would always be there for love and support? Blair let out an irritated snort and walked to the corner, where he sank down to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees. He was tired of the way he and Jim dealt with their problems in particular, and their lives in general. They never talked about emotional issues, because it was off limits according to The Ellison Rules. Nope, unless it was pure, one hundred percent macho, Jim ran the other way as fast as he could. And now, when Blair needed someone, he was alone. Always alone.

The elevator car started to move, and Blair raised his head. "Hey! We're moving."

"Good observation, Darwin. While you were having your nervous breakdown, I called on the elevator's emergency phone and had Simon called maintenance. It wasn't a serious problem, obviously, since we were trapped for a whole eight minutes."

Blair rose, dusting off his backside. "Whatever," he muttered, and the second the doors slipped open, he headed toward his car.

"I'll see you at home!" Jim called after him, but he didn't bother turning or speaking. He wanted to lift his middle finger, but knowing it was childish, he ignored his partner instead and went for a long drive.

\------------------------------

He walked into the ring and took his corner. The blue silk shorts trimmed in white brushed coolly against his thighs. A hand clasped his shoulder and a water bottle was thrust into his hand. He nodded, spitting out the mouthpiece and drinking deeply before passing the bottle back. The bell rang, and after he replaced the mouth guard, hands pushed him forward. He rose and trotted to the center, his eyes fixed on his opponent.

Blue eyes met his, and as he sucked in a startled breath, he realized that his opponent was- He was fighting himself, he saw with a start. His alter self bumped gloves with him and started to dance around when the bell sounded. Unable to think, he stood stupidly still as his opponent moved forward and, with one hard punch to the jaw, sent him to the mat.

As the referee leaned down and started to count to ten, he blinked slowly, the sweat dripping into his eyes. God, his jaw hurt and his world spun. He forced his focus back to the ref and realized that the man was on 'seven'. Pushing himself to a sitting position, he staggered to his feet on the count of nine. Arms at his sides, he shook his head to clear it before nodding to the ref's question about his condition. His opponent grinned, the white of his mouth guard stark against his skin. His blue eyes were cold when they scanned his face. He stumbled back and hit the ropes.

Was this really his inner self? Was he cold and dead inside as he sometimes felt outside? Was he as worthless and useless as he felt? What was wrong with him? As his opponent, his own self, advanced on him, he heard a voice calling. Swiveling his head from side to side, he searched for the familiar voice until, at the side of the ring, he saw that which he sought. His partner, his friend, his -- love stood there, a smile on his face. He focused on Jim fully, and the words drifted to his ears: "Get him, Sandburg! He's not who you are!"

Turning back to his opponent, he lifted his gloves in a defensive posture and waited. When his depressive inner self lifted his arm to strike, he moved swiftly. His right glove connected solidly, and his opponent's eyes widened before his entire body shattered into a million pieces with a blinding flash of blue light...

"Blair!"

Blair woke with a jerk and found himself held against Jim's chest. One of his friend's arms was wrapped around his shoulders and a hand cupped the back of his head.

"Jim?" Blair whispered.

"For God's sake, Sandburg. You were sobbing in your sleep. Are you okay?"

Blair pushed out of the warm embrace and wiped both of his hands down his cheeks. "I'm fine." Jim sat on the edge of his bed, and his eyes intently examined Blair. Blair met his partner's gaze for a moment before his eyes slid away. "Go back to bed."

"When did you get in? I waited until one am."

"You're not my babysitter!" Blair snapped.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jim asked harshly. "Were you drinking?"

"No! Now get out!"

Jim rose and stalked toward the door before he stopped and turned. Blair lifted his chin and glared. Jim seemed to wrestle with something before he slowly walked back over to Blair's side. "Listen... I know what's bugging you."

Blair crossed his arms. "So now you're into psychoanalysis?" he said snidely.

Jim knelt beside Blair's bed. "No, but I know you're hurting. Roy's death has been rough."

"So what did you expect? You want me to be like you? When a good friend dies, I'm supposed to go out and -- beat somebody? Bring them down and all is well? Well, man, I have a big surprise for you. I'm not like that!" he shouted.

Jim's hand reached out and for a moment, Blair froze. When the warm hand rested on his arm, he shook it off. Jim didn't seem fazed at all, but again, he touched Blair's arm. "I'm really, really sorry Roy died."

Blair dropped his head, letting his hair side his face. He felt the tears course down his cheeks and with great will power, he held the sobs that threatened to erupt in check.

"It's okay to cry," Jim said softly, rubbing Blair's arm gently. "It was a horrible thing. In Roy's profession, there are deaths. The sweet science is a rough sport, but Roy didn't get to die doing what he loved. He was cheated when he was murdered. And you were cheated out of a good friend. I'm sorry I wasn't more sympathetic."

Blair wiped his face with his fingers before taking the tissue that suddenly appeared in front of his watery gaze. He ran the tissue over his wet cheeks and blew his nose. After a few moments, he nodded.

"Feeling better?"

Blair shook his head.

"The elevator getting stuck wasn't the problem, was it?"

"No."

"Didn't think so." Jim patted Blair's shoulder. "How about something to drink?"

Blair raised his head and met Jim's sympathetic gaze. "I'm really tired."

"Go to sleep, Chief. In the morning, I'll treat you to breakfast."

Blair nodded and slid down onto the mattress. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. I do care what happens to you, Sandburg."

"I know you do. But..."

"But what?"

"Nothing. Night, Jim."

"Good night... Blair."

\---------------------------

Chapter Fifty-One

Blair quickly crossed to the front door, opening it at the sounds of someone banging around in the hallway. He flung the door wide and stopped when he saw Jim on his knees, picking up papers, photographs and mementos strewn across the floor.

"Hey, man, let me help," Blair offered, joining his partner in scooping up the items and putting them into a cardboard box that had obviously seen better days. One side of the box had been taped shut and the tape had yellowed and split. "What's all this?"

"Stuff," Jim replied.

"Good answer," Blair said with a chuckle. "Hey! Look!" He perused one of the old photographs of a couple of small boys with two adults, obviously a family portrait. "That's... you and -- Steven? Your mom and dad? Yeah, I see the resemblance. It is your dad. Is that-?" The picture was unceremoniously ripped from his hand.

"It's personal," Jim said shortly, dropping the picture into the box and snapping the damaged cardboard around the contents. He rose and picked up the broken box.

"Geez, Jim. I'm sorry I dared tread into personal territory. I just wanted to see-"

"Save it, Sandburg. I did what you asked. I got my father involved and look what happened!" Jim glared before turning to carry the box into the loft. After depositing it on the kitchen counter, he returned to collect the other two boxes that he'd placed on the floor while they'd gathered the runaway contents of the broken box. When Blair reached down to help, Jim snapped, "Leave it."

Blair rose and poked a finger into Jim's arm. "I didn't do anything you wouldn't have done! Your father had information about the case. Besides, I didn't hurt your father. Aaron Foster is responsible!" He followed Jim into the loft and closed the door. Standing at the door, he quietly said, "Why don't you ever talk to me? I know how traumatic it must have been-"

Jim set down the boxes and stalked over to Blair. He pushed a finger into Blair's face. "You have no idea what it was like. Growing up... No idea! Now leave it alone!"

"You know what? I think that's a great idea. Any more, all you do is bitch at me! Nothing I do is right! I'm tired of it!" Blair pushed by Jim and walked toward his room. He turned before he entered and added, "Either you start treating me a hell of a lot better, or I'm out of here. Screw the Sentinel research! You never wanted it in the first place" Then he slammed his door shut and flung himself down on the bed, anger flaring in his gut. He fumed for a few minutes before he pushed himself up and ran a hand through his hair. He rose and paced, remembering his most recent session with his friend and counselor, RD, who was working with Blair to focus his energy, and to help him deal with the dreams and visions.

Channel your negative energy, your pessimistic emotions, your oppressive feelings. Study them; use them for purpose, for learning, or they will eat at you until you damage your inner peace.

Forcing himself to calm down, Blair breathed in a rhythmic pattern slowly and carefully as he sat down on the rug beside his bed. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes, resting his hands on his knees in his usual meditation pose. He thought about Jim. About the little he knew of his childhood. Of his mother's abandonment and his father's somewhat cold demeanor. Blair desperately wished he knew more about Jim's upbringing, but he had been reluctant to ask many questions. He knew that Jim's mother had left the family many years ago, never to return; that William had treated both children in what he considered a cold and calculating manner to turn them into "men who didn't cry", as Jim had once said; and that Jim hadn't spoken to his own brother for fifteen years until Steven had been accused of murder by Jim himself. Other than that, Blair didn't have much to go on.

With a deep sigh, he concentrated his mind on Jim. He opened himself up to his friend's energy, and in his mind's eye, he brought the photograph he had briefly seen in the hallway into focus...

He lay in his bed, covers throws up over his head, but the voices were still loud. So loud he would have thought that his parents were standing right next to his bed.

"He's a damned freak, Grace!"

"He's our son, William. Our seven year old son! He's just a child!"

"That doesn't make it any easier! You know and I know what he's been doing and saying. And seeing. Since he was three, he's been different! And lately, it's gotten worse. I won't have it! It is my job to see that he grows into a man! Not some -- freak of nature! Not some sniveling brat!"

"Put down that phone. Please, William... What are you going to do?"

He slipped from his bed and opened the door. Quietly, he padded down the hallway to stand outside of his parents' bedroom. Something caught his eye, and he turned, seeing his reflection in the mirror on the wall opposite from where he stood. With a gasp, he saw -- light brown hair, blue eyes... A boy, yes, he was a boy. That much was true, but he knew that he had dark curly hair that often fell over his forehead and his eyes, while blue, were a very different shade. His were deep and dark, tending to turn black when his emotions were high. These eyes were clear and bright and oh so sad! He raised a hand to his mouth, startled when the hand copied his actions in the mirror. He walked over to the mirror and stared. He waggled his eyebrows and wrinkled his nose. His reflection mimicked his actions. But who was he? This boy was bigger, older, with straight hair. Where was his mother? He started to call for Naomi when the door behind him opened, and in the mirror, he saw a strange man stalk across the hallway and clamp a hand on his shoulder.

"Jimmy!" the man said angrily, their gazes meeting in the mirror. "What are you doing? Were you listening? What did you hear?" The man's face grew dark and the hands clamped on his shoulders shook him. "Of course, you don't have to lurk outside of doors to hear, do you?" At his wide-eyed expression, the man -- his father? -- smirked. "Do you want everybody to think you're a damned freak?" his father said, his voice low and menacing. "Do you want them to come and take you away? Lock you up?" His father spun him around... His father? This wasn't his father! He didn't know who his father was. Naomi had never- The strong hands shook him again. "Are you listening to me?" the man demanded, kneeling in front of him.

"William," a feminine voice interrupted, "leave him alone!"

His father -- William -- glanced up and said, "I'll speak to you later. Right now, I'm going to explain to Jimmy about military school."

He looked up at the woman, his mother obviously. She was very beautiful, even with the tears coursing down her cheeks. Fear clutched at his belly. Confusion raced through him. "Mom?" he whispered before his voice rose. "Don't send me away! I'll be good. I promise! Please!"

William rose, and after latching onto his arm, dragged him down the hallway. "James," the man warned, "stop this childishness this instant. Real men don't cry and they certainly do not whimper."

"William, please!" Grace pleaded.

William stopped. He twisted in his father's strong grasp, but the hand holding him was unrelenting. "Go and see to Steven." William cocked his head toward the opposite end of the hallway, where a younger, dark-haired boy stood, dressed in pajamas, his thumb in his mouth.

With eyes blurry from tears, he watched as his mother ran to the child William had called Steven and picked him up before she disappeared through a doorway.

William gave his arm another shake. "Eavesdropping is a corporal offense, young man." With that, he was led down the hallway into what looked like a bedroom. There were airplanes hanging on string from the ceiling, along with a football and basketball on the dresser. Books and cars lined a bookcase. He was taken over to the bed, where his father sat down and pushed him across his knees. The first slap on his backside stung. By the tenth, he was biting his lower lip and the blood flowed. He wouldn't cry. Ellison men never cried...

Blair shivered as he came out of his meditation. He was confused and angry and unhappy and irritated. Was that real? Or did he imagine a scene from Jim's childhood. He recognized the boy in the mirror from the picture of Jim he'd seen. How the hell did he see something like that? It had to be something his imagination had dreamt up. It couldn't be real! There was no way he could do that! He didn't have that sort of -- power. Nobody did!

Blair rubbed at his eyes, surprised to find that his face was wet. He rose, absolutely startled to feel a twinge of pain on his backside, exactly where he -- Jim – whoever -- had been spanked. Had Jim's father really treated his son in such an abysmal fashion? No wonder Jim was as fucked up as he was! No wonder he didn't want to go near his father. Blair's sympathy kicked in full force. How could a parent treat such a precious child that way? A special child... One with budding Sentinel abilities. It was no surprise that Jim didn't want to keep the usual childhood remembrances. Not with that -- man for a parent! God, no wonder his stoic partner hated being different, and that his remembrance of his childhood was painful.

The tapping on the door finally drew his attention. As it became more incessant, he pulled in a deep breath and slowly exhaled before he called out, "Come in." He wasn't surprised to see Jim standing there, looking hesitant and, in Blair's newly-opened eyes, very vulnerable.

"Blair... I..."

"It's okay, Jim."

Jim didn't move to enter, but stood looking lost and fragile. It twisted Blair's heart to see his strong, silent partner so hurt. Blair quickly decided to let Jim set the pace, so he waited patiently for his partner to make the next move. Jim fidgeted for a moment before he finally said, "I didn't mean to be so -- abrupt."

"I understand," Blair said seriously, the images of the vision still fresh in his mind. "Family dynamics and all."

"Yeah. That's the bad part."

Blair smiled, giving Jim a nod. "How about I brew up a fresh pot of coffee?"

Jim gave a nod in return, and Blair was pleased to see the unhappiness that was clearly etched on his features lift a little bit. He knew that Jim was relieved that he hadn't launched into an emotional discussion, and for now, he was content to not prod his friend. "Okay."

"Cool." Blair didn't mention that Jim's voice seemed to be choked full of emotion. After all, Ellison men don't cry.

"Chief?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's sit at the kitchen table. I want to --- if you want to, that is. I mean, there are things... Oh, crap." Blair smiled and again, waited patiently until Jim collected his thoughts. After a few embarrassing seconds, Jim shrugged and smiled. "I want to show you some pictures."

Blair stopped and put a hand on his friend's arm. "I'd like that."

\------------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Two

Blair rushed across the road and knelt on the cold pavement beside his partner. Jim had his face buried in Lila's neck as he cradled her dead body close to him. He remained silent, putting a hand on his suffering friend's arm, not knowing what to say. Lila hadn't been good for Jim, but he'd loved her. At least, Blair thought Jim thought he loved Lila. More like he loved the idea of Lila, who was beautifully exotic and dangerous.

The ambulance pulled up, along with the rest of the forensics crew. Jim eventually let them take Lila away, and Blair was left to comfort a partner who didn't want comforting, but who desperately needed it. Angry at Lila for doing this to his friend, for making Jim fall in love with her in the first place, all those years ago. And now, for stabbing him in the heart, and dying, because of him. Jim's guilt would certainly run deep over this debacle. Love kills, Blair knew, not at all sorry the woman was dead. He felt a stab of guilt over that as well, but after a few moments of watching Jim's tense, bitter face as he stood in the middle of the road watching the coroner's wagon take Lila away, Blair decided that he didn't care. He'd rather have the guilt than have Lila still around.

With a firm hand, he led Jim to his truck, and after demanding the keys, drove them both home, where his partner immediately went upstairs to his room. Blair hovered in the living room for a while, but Jim didn't come back down, nor did he turn on any lights. Blair sighed deeply, and since there was nothing else he could do to help Jim, he went into his own bed, wishing he had the balls -- and the invitation -- to go up and comfort his grieving friend. But that wasn't to be, so he crawled into his cold, lonely bed and after at least three hours of tossing and turning, he finally fell into an exhausted sleep...

When they exited the elevator and walked down the hallway toward the door of the loft, he was curious when Jim leaned down and picked up a florist's box.

"What's that?" he asked.

Jim sighed. "These are the flowers I sent Lila." Jim looked confused and unhappy when he held out the box. "Give these to Samantha when you see her."

He took the box, staring down at the pretty blossoms of expensive orchids. "Hey, I have a better idea. What do you say that you and I spend a quiet night at home? You and me. We'll veg out on the sofa, pop some popcorn. You need to rest anyway."

Jim shook his head, pushing open the door. "No. No, you go. You promised Sam."

"I'm not leaving you, and that's final." He shrugged out of his jacket. "Give me your coat."

"I'm okay, Chief."

"Jim, you just spent twenty-fours hours in the hospital. You suffered from opium poisoning, and with your senses, there's no telling what sort of aftereffects you might experience. I'm staying right here." When Jim's mouth opened, he held up a hand. "No arguments. Now go and get into your sweats while I'll fix us some dinner." Jim started to protest again, but he smiled and pointed toward the steps. "Go. I'm in charge."

Jim smiled. "Thanks. I'd like a quiet night at home -- with you."

\----------------------

With Jim's head pillowed in his lap, he contentedly sat and flipped through the channels, settling on a special about space exploration when someone knocked. Very gently, he slipped out from under his partner, who was deeply asleep, and padded to the door. Opening it, he was surprised to see the woman who had Jim running backward, forward, and sideways. His dislike must have shown, because her chin lifted, and she stared at him with cold, dark eyes.

"I'm here to see Jim," she said firmly, the exotic lilt of her voice touching his ears.

"He's sick," he said coldly. He blocked the doorway with his body when she tried to look into the apartment. "He's had a bad turn and needs his rest."

"He'll want to see me. It's about the flowers-"

"Save it, lady," he hissed softly. "Jim's -- taken." He smirked when her eyes widened and two bright spots of color dotted her cheeks. "Yeah, you heard me. Now I think you'd better leave. In fact, if you were smart, you'd head to the airport and take the first flight back to -- wherever you came from." He started to close the door and right before he shut it, he added menacingly, "... before it's too late." With a satisfied thud, he closed the door the rest of the way and turned the lock. It gave a nice clink when it clicked into place. He waited until he heard the sounds of her heels tapping on the hallway floor as she walked toward the elevator before returning to the sofa.

Jim stirred and opened his eyes. "Thought I heard somebody at the door."

He smiled down at his friend. "Yeah, the neighbor. Wanted to know if we'd seen her cat." Jim nodded. "Come on, man. Let's get you up to bed."

"Sandburg," Jim groused, "I'm fine! Will you stop hovering?"

"Sorry," he said with a grin, rocking back on his heels. "It's a bad habit."

Jim rose and stretched. He admired the firm belly that peeked out from under Jim's t-shirt when his arms were over his head. "See something you like?" Jim asked playfully.

He blushed and dropped his head, not realizing that he must have been staring. "What kind of question is that?"

"It's just a question. I mean, if you're looking, you must be interested."

He raised his head, his heart pounding. He briefly wondered if Jim could hear its frantic beating and if he could smell anything -- unusual from his body. He was both terrified and elated that Jim had noticed his interest, and the scientist in him briefly wondered if the Sentinel in his partner could smell his pheromones as he had smelled Laura's. Making the snap decision to forge ahead, the consequences be damned, he swallowed hard and shrugged. "You're a nice-looking guy. I'm sure lots of people look."

Jim chuckled. "You're not lots of people, Chief. You're -- my friend."

For a moment, he wondered exactly what Jim was hinting at. It only took him a few seconds to decide that his friend's reference to his interest couldn't be all guess work. Maybe Jim felt something for him also and was just waiting for him to make the first move.

He looked through his lashes at Jim, hoping he looked sultry and sexy. "Yes, Jim. I see something I like. Something I like very much. Probably too much," he added with a dry chuckle.

"Oh?" Jim asked, moving closer. "Would it -- shock you if I said it goes both ways? That I see something I like very much too?"

"No," he said softly, his gaze meeting Jim's. "I'd say, it's about damned time."

Jim threw back his head and laughed aloud before he took the final step that closed the distance between them. Jim raised a hand and cupped his chin in it. Without saying anything else, he stepped forward and kissed him lightly.

He returned the kiss, letting his passion show through. He threw his arms around his lover and deepened the kiss. After a few moments, they parted. He grinned and Jim chuckled, ruffling his hair.

"How long?" Jim asked.

"You first."

"Six, seven months."

"The first day I saw you. In the hospital."

One of Jim's eyebrows rose. "Really. Wow. Great. So... you want to..." Jim tilted his head toward the stairs, a grin on his face.

"Definitely!" he said happily. "One condition, though."

"Name it."

"You and me, Jim. Nobody else. This is for keeps."

Jim slipped an arm around Blair's waist and pulled him close. "For keeps, Blair. I promise."

"Me, too. I promise..."

Blair woke to a cold and dreary morning. Looking out the balcony windows, the world was dark and rainy. He heard his partner shuffling around in his room and finally, Jim made his way down the stairs.

"Morning, Jim," Blair said, joining his partner in the kitchen. "I made fresh coffee." He examined his friend intently. There were bags under his eyes, his hair stood on end, and his face was drawn and pale. It was obvious that Jim had not slept well. "Or I could make you tea if you like."

"Nah. I need to get dressed and go down to the station."

"Simon called about thirty minutes ago. He gave me strict orders to keep you home today. He's worried about you," Blair paused before he added, "...and so am I."

Jim sighed. "I'm okay. There's no reason to stay home."

Blair moved closer to his partner and put a hand on his arm. He was thankful that Jim didn't shrug off his touch. "You've had a traumatic experience. A friend... a close friend of yours was killed, and you need to process."

"Do not lecture me! I don't need that psychoanalysis crap right now! Let's face it," Jim said, his voice dropping, "love is shit. Love kills, and that's all there is to it."

"Jim, that's not true. You're hurting right now, but it will be-"

"Better in the morning?" Jim snapped, the sarcasm dripping from his words. "It is morning," he said coldly, waving a hand toward the balcony, "and it's still shit."

"No, it's not. Love is not shit. It's what keeps us alive. Jim, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but -- I love you. And what I feel isn't shit. It's important and real."

Jim rubbed his eyes and for a moment, he covered his face with his hands before they fell away. The blood-shot, tired eyes that peered at Blair were filled with tears that didn't fall. Blair put his hands on Jim's upper arms and smiled. He would have pulled his unhappy friend into a hug, but he knew that Jim probably wouldn't appreciate that much sentimentality. Instead, he said, "Now how about that tea? And maybe a bowl of oatmeal?"

Jim's gaze searched Blair's face for a long minute before he finally nodded. "If you're in mother hen mode, I guess it's useless for me to fight it."

Blair grinned, accepting Jim's roundabout means of saying thanks and acquiescing to his orders to stay home and rest. "You got it. Now sit and let me take care of this." He was pleased when Jim didn't protest but sat down at the table. Blair smiled. "Good decision. What kind of tea? Orange pekoe, Cinnamon Apple or... Oh, I have some new herbal tea. Green tea with chamomile. I think you'd like it."

"I trust your judgment, Chief. You pick."

With a smile, Blair prepared Jim's tea, happily taking care of his best friend.

\------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Three

Blair lay in his bed, covers pulled up to his chin. The green numbers of the clock continued to advance. Here it was, 4:28 AM, and he still hadn't slept a wink since crawling into bed a little after midnight.

He should be exhausted. Simon had dropped him off before nine pm after the boring drive home from Clayton Falls. Blair turned to his side and curled up, sleep clearly eluding him this long, lonely night. He felt -- okay. Whatever he'd been dosed with by the friendly band of thieves bent on letting nothing stand in their way of heisting millions in old currency seemed to have pretty much left his system. His guts had churned for several hours on the drive home, but now he was just plain exhausted.

Not only physically, Blair realized with a jolt, but mentally also. He had a sickening suspicion that he and Jim were at the crossroads of their relationship. It wouldn't be long now before something happened. Their relationship would either move forward, or break into tiny little pieces... along with his heart. He sighed deeply and turned again, lying on his back, blinking back hot tears that threatened to fall. He knew he loved Jim, but there was nothing he could do about that. Jim was out of reach.

Blair swiped at his eyes and sighed again. He rose from his bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen. Automatically, he started a fresh pot of coffee. He stood watching the dark fluid drip into the glass carafe until it was filled. Then he poured a cup and skipping the cream and sugar, he carried the mug to the sofa where he sat, watching the dawn rise through the balcony windows. Coffee finished, Blair rested the cup on his knee and leaned his backon the sofa cushions. His sleepless night got the best of him, and in a few minutes, he fell asleep...

He looked at his friend through bleary eyes. "I think I'm down with the mayhem." He turned and started to follow Simon when he heard Jim's muttered: "I finally shook them." He sighed, his sadness a thick lump in his throat, and followed the captain toward his car. Suddenly, a hand clamped on his shoulder, and he jerked in surprise.

"What the...?" He turned and saw his partner standing there, a small smile playing on his lips. "Jim? Did you forget something?" he asked coldly. "Maybe you'd like me to be out-"

"Don't go."

His eyes widened in surprise. "What?" he whispered. "Don't go... where?"

"Don't go home. Stay."

"Really? Wait... Stay where?" he asked suspiciously.

Jim tapped his arm. "With me."

"With you," he echoed.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Sandburg... Blair, somehow I don't think my message is getting through."

"Sandburg!" Simon called. "Are you coming?"

He turned and waved a hand. "Nah. I think I'll stay."

Simon stared for a long moment before he nodded. "You want your bag?"

"Yes, he does," Jim answered. "Come on, Chief. We have things to talk about."

"Okay," he responded, still confused over Jim's behavior, but as always, willing to listen. "Whatever."

Jim didn't explain further, but took his bag from Simon's fingers with a word of thanks and with a hand against the small of his back, guided him toward the motel. Once inside the small room behind the reception desk, Jim tossed the bag onto a chair and turned to him.

"I don't want you to go."

"Okay. So I'll stay."

"No..." Jim rubbed his forehead before pinching the bridge of his nose. He crossed his arms and sighed. "I don't want you to go ever."

"Ever... Okay. You want me to live in a room under your stairs for the rest of my life."

"No!" Jim cast him an exasperated glance. "Geez, Chief, give me a break here! I'm trying to tell you something important!"

He watched carefully, seeing the warring emotions on Jim's face. He wasn't sure exactly what to do now, but anxiously, he stepped forward a foot, closing the gap between them. "Okay. So... Something important... like what? Man, I can't read your mind." He tempered his impatient words with an encouraging smile.

He figured he must have said the right thing because Jim tentatively smiled and said, "I -- really want you to stay with me... as more than partners. More, like -- oh, shit."

"More than partners? More as in -- lovers?" he asked, his heart pounding double time, threatening to overwhelm him. Still, he pressed gently, needing some assurance from Jim. "Jim?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, man... Really? Because I have to tell you, I'm so down with that I can't even tell you!" he said, laughing. Blair threw his arms around his friend. "This is great!"

"So you're good with this? With us?" Jim asked, his voice hesitant and choked with emotion.

He looked up into his partner's face. "I love you, man. Have for a long time." Jim's eyes widened before his face lit up and a big grin spread across his face. He returned the grin with one of his own before he finally asked, "So are you going to kiss me or what?"

Jim nodded happily. "Or what!" In his enthusiasm, Jim mashed their mouths together a bit too forcefully, making both of them grunt and pull apart.

"Hey, I'm not going any place." He ran a hand down the side of his new lover's face. "How about we try that again, but this time, we'll leave some skin?"

He thought it was adorable when Jim blushed and nodded. He'd never seen Jim quite so -- happy before. His friend moved more carefully this time, bringing their mouths together in a gentle kiss. It wasn't long before they were kissing amorously as their fingers simultaneously fumbled and tugged on each other’s clothes. He didn't remember how it happened, but they were soon in a tangled heap on the bed, kissing and laughing and licking and nibbling, until they both were so aroused that when they finally decided to share mutual pleasure, it only took a minute or two before orgasms were wrenched from both men amid cries of pleasure.

Afterward, he decided that lying in the rumpled bed, sated and happy, wrapped in each others arms, was the best thing he'd ever done in his life. Well, almost, he thought blissfully, his smile never waning as he fell asleep next to his new lover...

The jangling of the phone brought Blair out of his restless sleep. He jumped up and searched for the hand-held before he found it under a dishtowel on the counter. With a glance at the clock, he leaned back on the counter.

"Sandburg."

"Hey, Chief. I went fishing early this morning! They're biting big time! Want to join me? You feeling okay?"

"Jim, man, slow down. What's got you so -- hyped up? You okay?"

"I'm good. Just thought I'd ask. But I understand if you're busy."

"No! No. I'd love to come and fish. I'll leave in about thirty minutes. I'll be there in time for a late lunch." Blair smiled and said quietly, "Thanks. It will be good spending some time with you."

"Hurry up, Sandburg. I'm not waiting for you much past noon. By then, the fish will have gone home!"

With a laugh, Blair hung up and retrieved his still-packed bag, elated at Jim's invitation to join him after all.

\----------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Four

"Blair, come in," Dr. Doyle offered, smiling and waving toward the comfortable chairs and sofa on the opposite side of the spacious room. "Your phone call was quite -- unsettling."

Blair nodded, hurrying across the room. "Thanks for seeing me on such short notice." He tossed his backpack to the floor and sat on the edge of the sofa, his hands nervously tapping on his knees.

"Sure, mate. Any time. What's wrong? You're definitely tense and agitated. Tell me what's going on." RD looked serious when he spoke.

"It's never going to happen! I try and I try! I don't know how much longer I can do this!" Blair rose and paced, his ire rising. "I've tried. Really. I even went to see one of the people in the NA department who lectures in shamanism, and she was great! I wish I had more time to explore all of it, but..." He stopped in front of RD and threw out his hands. "I'm so fucked!"

RD rose and firmly said, "Blair, you need to calm down. This will not help. You know that unraveling isn't the answer. What do you say I brew up some Earl Grey and you tell me what's happening?"

Blair nodded, his hair flying in all directions. "Sorry. You're right." He sat down momentarily before he again stood. Following RD over to the small kitchen area hidden behind a cabinet door, he watched while Doyle plugged in the electric kettle. "There's another one," he stated flatly.

"Another one?"

"Yeah. Some stupid foreign exchange program. Another one! Man, if he goes after this one, I'm going to throw a gasket!"

"Another woman has been brought into the squad?"

"Connor. Megan Connor. She's from Australia, and she's pretty and capable and a great detective. What does he need me for? He's got her now!" Blair banged his forehead on the cabinet door nearest his head. "I can't compete," he said morosely.

RD poured hot water into the teapot, swirled the water for a few moments, before he poured it out and added a tea ball that he'd filled with tea leaves. He filled the pot with hot water and got down two nice-sized mugs from the shelf. On the counter, he setout sugar, honey, cream and lemon. "Blair, you don't have to compete. How long have you been with Jim?"

"Three years, give or take."

"I'd say that's a pretty damned steady relationship. Here you go. Fix yours to your liking, and let's sit."

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks." Blair added honey to his mug and after stirring it, he followed RD over to the sofa, where he sat down, sighing heavily.

"Do you think Jim loves you?"

Blair shrugged. "Sometimes... Maybe... But lately, things have been -- difficult."

"Why's that?"

He blew onto his tea before taking a small sip. "I wish I knew."

"Have you asked?"

With a snort, he nodded. "Jim says everything's fine, but I know something's wrong. I can feel it."

"Describe it to me."

Blair was silent for a few moments before he said, "I feel -- twitchy. Like somebody's watching over my shoulder. I know there's nobody there, but I can't shake the feeling. Something's just -- out of kilter."

"How long has this feeling been present?"

"A few weeks. Off and on. It comes and goes."

"Have you ever kept track of when these feelings occur? Maybe there's something that is affecting your shamanic abilities. Keeping a log or journal of the actual times and places might help. You're a research scientist, remember?" Doyle smiled

Blair looked up, surprised. "I hadn't thought of that. Something -- psychic? Connected with Jim's abilities? You think so? I mean, I kept detailed notes about Jim's abilities, but I never thought they would affect me personally." Blair chewed on his lower lip. "You know, physically."

"When you explained Jim's abilities to me and how he functions, I think you didn't give yourself nearly enough credit concerning your role in your partner's life." RD drank from his mug before he continued. "You've told me that Jim's Sentinel abilities have improved dramatically over the years. From my perspective, and from what's you've described, I believe his improvement is a direct result of your involvement. It is because you are his companion. What did that one fellow call it? Oh, yes. A sort of guide."

"I don't know... I mean, there isn't much research to suggest what function a Guide serves. I know about the zone out factor, watching the Sentinel's back, but I don't know how I'd fit into the entire equation. After all, this isn't the jungle."

"Oh, really? I beg to differ. A jungle doesn't need rain forest and man-eating creatures and headhunters." Doyle smiled, his tone clearly indicating his resolve at his statement. "And I already think you know exactly how you fit. Why don't you want to say it out loud? Will that make it more real than it already is?"

RD's gaze was patient but firm when he spoke. Blair acknowledged the validity of his words, but it was still hard to voice his knowledge, let alone his desires, aloud. He slowly nodded. "I'm not sure it will work. I mean... If it is some sort of a pairing that's supposed to come out of this, it's just not going to work! Jim isn't into guys. And I'm a guy." At RD's scowl, Blair grinned. "I'm not evading the question! Really, I'm not," he protested feebly. He paused, and when RD didn't speak, he knew that his friend wouldn't say anything until he'd broken down and spoken, and spoken the truth. "You are a dick," Blair muttered. At RD's answering grin, he slumped back on the sofa. "I'm in love with Jim, and I know that we're destined to be together. I just don't know how to convince him of that fact!"

With a chuckle, RD said matter-of-factly, "You'll think of something. You're a smart fella."

"Thanks," Blair said dryly. "Your confidence in me is overwhelming."

"You can be as sarcastic as you choose, Blair, but I am confident in you. Even if you aren't. You'll do the right thing. When the time comes, you'll know what that is. You are a man of character, and you care deeply."

Blair smiled as he nodded. "I do care. Thanks. Sorry I was bitchy."

"No problem. My three o'clock canceled earlier, so why don't you sit back, close your eyes and let your mind clear. Let's see what happens today."

With a nod and a cleansing huff of breath, Blair closed his eyes and with practiced ease, dropped into a meditative state quickly...

No longer surprised at his state, he recognized that he was once again the creature that he was before, in other dreams. He was the wolf. A quick glance at his body verified this information. He glanced around, the hair on his back rising in fear and anger. His teeth bared as he sniffed the air for danger. His gaze intently examined the surrounding brush. Darkness covered the clearing, but his night vision compensated. He moved forward, suddenly aware that something lay on the ground directly ahead of him. As he walked forward, the scent of blood reached his sensitive nose. Instantly, his senses rose to full alertness as he tried to understand what was happening. In his path lay another creature -- the panther. For some reason, he recognized the cat as his companion without knowing why. He moved closer, the smell of the blood growing more pronounced. Still, he dared not take his concentration away from whatever danger might still be lurking. Something had felled his companion, and his instincts told him that danger was close by. He made a complete circle around the panther, once, twice, until he was sure that there was nothing to fear; that the immediate danger had passed.

Finally convinced that it was safe for the time being, he moved to his companion and bent his head to nuzzle the soft black fur. His nose took in the acrid tang of blood and as he searched the panther's body for the source of the wound, the panther's eyes slowly opened. He found the damaged area and licked at the shoulder of his companion, the blood thick on his tongue.

Piteously, he whimpered and hunkered down, pushing his muzzle under the panther's leg, encouraging him to rise. The cat's lip curled back, and he growled menacingly at the wolf. The intent was clear. The panther expected to be left to die in peace. The wolf would have none of it. He was determined to help his companion, so he moved forward and licked the bleeding wound again. Even as he tended to his friend, the world shifted from dark to light. The panther disappeared before his eyes, leaving a trail of mist, and the forest muted into the sickly blue he had seen before.

From behind him, he heard the scream of a predator, and the sound made his blood run cold. He leapt to his feet and raced away from the vicious cry. As he ran through the underbrush, he could hear the hunter lunging after him. He plunged through the brush where it slapped at his face and poked his fur, running... running until he could run no more. Standing at the bank of a wide river, he turned. The hunter stood staring at him, its eyes a piercing yellow, while its teeth gleamed white, even as the rest of his world was colored in blue. The predator moved closer, and he clearly saw the spotted jaguar. Closer it came, and he knew without a doubt that the cat meant to harm him. He backed up until his back feet touched the water. He paused and it lunged. He did his best to defend himself, but something seemed to hold him back. He didn't have time to examine why he felt he had no reason to live, that it was best to let the jaguar have its way. The thought was a momentary flash, barely having time to register. His body jerked as the jaguar's jaw crushed his throat in its strong grasp. The will to live overcame his brief stab of depression. He knew he wanted to live, and he began to struggle.

When they moved into deeper water together, they went under, the jaguar's grip loosened enough for him to move away. He rose to the surface and took off toward the bank with the jaguar behind him. When his feet found purchase, he turned. They grappled tooth and nail, their fight almost silent as each battled for victory. He held his own for a good while, but finally, the jaguar's strong jaw once again clamped around his neck. He howled, twisting and turning in the grasp, but the hold didn't loosen at all. In fact, the jaws of the cat tightened and he felt his strength quickly waning. He was vaguely aware that the jaguar was dragging him back into the deeper water. Suddenly, he was forced under. The cold water flooded his mouth. His lungs burned as they started to fill, but still he fought back with the last bit of strength left to him until his world faded away...

"Blair!"

With a violent shudder, Blair opened his eyes. He was standing, shaking from head to toe, with RD's hands clamped firmly on his upper arms. With a moan, he felt himself slowly sink into blackness...

"...air? There you go. That's it..."

Blair's eyes slowly opened, and he groggily looked around. "Oh, man," he whispered.

"You fainted."

"That was weird."

"How do you feel?"

"Kind of tired." With RD's help, Blair sat up. "I'm... okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Here. Drink this."  
A glass was pressed into his hand. He sipped the water, letting the coolness wash down his throat. "Thanks."

RD took the glass from his hand, his concern radiating from his entire body. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. Man, that was a powerful vision." He sat on the sofa, shaking his head. "I think I'm going nuts."

"You are not going nuts." Doyle stated before he asked seriously, "Did you understand anything about the vision? Anything that will explain what's going on?"

"Nothing! It managed to confuse the hell out of me, and now I'm even less sure about what's going on! I mean, I understand about Jim having the panther to guide him. But what about me? I'm a wolf? What's that all about? I've seen it before, but I don't understand!"

"You know what you told me about Jim's animal spirit. Why don't you think you'd have one also? Jim has a spirit to guide him, and you do also. Don't fight it so much, Blair. Isn't that what you told Jim in Peru. Follow the spirit guide in spite of fighting it." Blair let out a deep sigh, crossing his arms to hug his body. Doyle sat on the sofa beside him and put a hand on his arm. "It's a wonderful gift. I'm sure if you'd take the time to delve deeply into the study of shamanism, that this would be explained to you. I don't know a lot about it, but this is a good thing. This is what you were destined to be."

"There was another one," he whispered, dropping his face into his hands.

"Another one?"

"Another animal spirit."

RD chewed on his lower lip for a moment before he asked, "Did you really think Jim's the only one?"

Blair's gaze caught RD's, and he was very concerned when he said, "I have no idea. I mean, it took years to find Jim, but the thought that there's even a remote, tiny, little chance that there's another Sentinel here, in Cascade, blows my mind."

"Do you know what would happen if two Sentinels -- found each other?"

Blair's eyes widened and his heart pounded. He shook his head and said slowly, "That is a damned good question. My answer is, I have absolutely no idea."

\----------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Five

Blair pressed the binoculars to his face, once again focusing on Katie's house. With a sigh, he looked through the darkened windows and wondered what the hell he was doing. Katie was a really nice woman, he knew, and Rachel was a darned cute little kid, but he really shouldn't be chasing after her when he knew good and well that his heart was otherwise engaged.

He leaned back in his chair, setting the binoculars down on his knee. He could hear Jim and Megan having yet another "discussion". The first ten times they discussed something or other had been entertaining. Now, after two days of constant sniping, Blair was plain tired of it. Sitting back up, he scanned the neighborhood once again. After all, it was his turn on neighborhood watch, and he took his duties seriously. No way was he letting anything happen to Katie and Rachel. They deserved a nice, safe, quiet life.

Blair thought about Katie again. Could he settle down with a nice woman and carry on with his life without Jim? Would that be the best thing he could do? For Jim and for himself? After all, there was no way that he could ever see them getting together. At least, not in the way he desired. He wanted a relationship. A permanent lover, and his heart had decided that Jim was it. Too bad Jim didn't know a thing about it. Or maybe it was for the best. Jim didn't need a geeky, talkative civilian hanging around, and Blair knew without a doubt that his time as Jim's ‘sidekick’ would soon come to an end. How he knew this information, he had no idea, but it was a certainty that made his heart break. In his mind, it would have been better that he'd never met Jim; that he'd never been put through this torment. To love so deeply and to know that it was never to be. Sometimes he wondered if it would have been better if he'd never been born.

Rising from the hard chair, Blair walked over to the table and popped the top on a soda. He sipped the cool drink before he took the can and a bag of chips back over to his vantage point. A quick scan with the binoculars showed that all was quiet, so he opened the bag and munched, alternating with gulps of soda. He finished the drink, and after having one more chip, rolled the top of the bag down to keep the rest of the contents fresh. Blair leaned back and stretched before leaning his neck to the right and to the left, hearing the audible cracks of his joints.

With a bored sigh, he propped his feet up on the window ledge and laced his hands behind his head. The street light on the opposite side of the cul-de-sac started to blink before it finally burned out. He stared at the bulb as it faded to a dull yellow before turning black. His eyelids closed and in moments, he was asleep...

He was flying! Soaring high over the city, he swooped and rolled, joyfully crying his pleasure as he zipped along. The city disappeared behind him and now he was flying over the forested countryside. Looking down, he saw lights winking in and out as a vehicle followed a winding road, disappearing under the cover of trees before emerging once again. Spreading his arms out wide, he dove down toward the lonely vehicle until he was skimming along with it as he looked down onto the roof. With a smile, he realized that the truck was a pretty Easter egg turquoise blue with white accents.

Unable to understand how he could perform such dazzling feats, he dropped onto the roof and stood on the metal, arms spread out. The wind whipped through his hair and beat against his face, and the feeling made him laugh aloud. He rode for a while, watching the road in front of him. He liked the way the headlights reflected off the white lines painted on the border of the road. He enjoyed the ride for a few more moments before he turned and jumped down, landing in the truck's bed. He danced a small jig, giggling. He stood on one foot, and even though the truck maneuvered around a corner, he maintained his balance easily.

He felt so good! With a grin, he walked up to the back window and looked inside. The driver's face was hidden from his view, but he could see the back of the man's head with the glow from the dashboard's instruments. He saw short hair and the collar of a denim jacket. Again, without understanding how, he walked through the metal of the vehicle's body and sat down beside the man.

The man took no notice of his presence so he reached out a hand and opened his mouth. His hand moved, but it was with a shock that he saw it disappear into the man's shoulder. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. He was astonished, but at the same time, he knew that he couldn't communicate with the driver. With a frown, he studied the strong profile and without knowing how, he suddenly realized that this was somebody he knew -- somebody he loved! This was Jim!

But this Jim had a drawn and pale face. His eyes were sunken and dull, and his mouth was pinched with deep lines of sadness marring the sallow skin. From Jim, he suddenly felt a wave of incredible sadness, and it made him want to cry. He held in a sob and moved closer to Jim, needing to comfort -- to console, but it was not to be. No matter what he tried to do or say, he was unable to communicate. The sadness started to permeate his own self, and he was starting to feel helpless and lonely.

Jim turned the truck off the main highway onto a side road. They traveled for a few miles down a single track dirt road covered with pot holes and muddy sections, where the truck slipped and slid, but his fpartner drove on doggedly until they arrived at a small clearing, where he turned off the ignition, killed the lights and opened the door.

He moved along with his friend, walking, yet not. His focus was intently latched onto Jim, and when he saw Jim finally stop at the edge of a cliff, he was suddenly afraid. He knew what was going to happen and he was powerless to stop it. He threw his arms around his partner, but his touch was ineffective. He literally fell through Jim and out over the open chasm. But he could fly, so he immediately zipped back to his friend's side.

Terrified for Jim, he waved his arms and jumped up and down. Jim looked right through him, his eyes unseeing. When Jim finally spoke, he fell still and listened intently.

"I'm sorry," Jim's soft voice said, sadness coloring his tone. "I tried and I tried. I'm just plain tired. My senses are out of control and painful. I can't stand the headaches and the zone outs." Jim peered over the edge with an incredibly sad face. "I searched for someone to help me. I was sure there would be somebody for me. I followed every lead. I went to every physician, psychiatrist and witch doctor I could find, but nobody has been able to help me." His unhappy partner covered his face with his hands. "I even tried a psychic. Some crazy nut who told me that there was someone... and he should have been here, with me, but that his soul refused to be born. That he didn't want to help me, to guide me. That he didn't care enough to even try!" Jim gave a dry laugh. "So now, this is what it has come to. I'm standing at the edge of a cliff. If I go forward, I'll die." His partner lifted one foot and held it over the edge. "And right now, that sounds like the best thing to do."

He screamed and lunged forward, arms outstretched, as Jim let himself fall...

Blair woke with start as he fell off the chair. He landed hard, banging his elbow and knee as he hit the floor. "Ow!" He lay where he landed for a few moments, catching his breath. He heard feet pounding up the stairs and Jim, followed by Megan, burst through the door.

"Sandburg?" Jim rushed to Blair's side. "What happened?"

"Ow. It's stupid. I fell asleep and took a header out of the damned chair."

"Sandy, you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay. Bashed my elbow."

"Come on, Chief." Jim helped Blair to his feet, and to Blair's gratitude, he kept a warm hand under his elbow when he tried to walk.

"Darn! My knee!"

"Sit down and let me have a look."

"It's nothing, man. Really. Just bruised."

"Sandburg," Jim groused, unable to raise the pant leg of his jeans enough to look at the knee. "Drop the pants so I can see." Jim glanced up to look at Blair. "You know the drill."

Blair's eyes widened. He glanced nervously at Megan, who held up a hand.

"I'm off, mate. This I don't need to see."

Jim snorted with amusement when she turned and ran from the room. "Guess you have that effect on women, Chief. Mention dropping your pants, and they run."

"Ha. Ha," Blair said. "You're a laugh a minute. Hang on." After he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, he lifted his backside and pushed the jeans down until his knee was exposed.

Using his fingers gently, Jim brushed the tips over Blair's leg. Blair felt a warm jolt hit his stomach before it quickly moved downward to settle in his groin. He bit his lip as Jim's hand skimmed his leg. Blair stared at the top of his partner's head, aching to reach out and touch his hair. He knew it would be soft under his fingers. Stop it! he ordered himself, knowing that if he didn't stop Jim's gentle examination soon, he would thoroughly embarrass himself by tenting his boxers.

"Ah, Jim... It's fine. Really." Blair struggled to his feet and quickly pulled up his pants. He hobbled away from his partner, saying over his shoulder, "Thanks, man. I'll go and -- rub some muscle cream on it. It's fine. Thanks. Ah..." He clamped his runaway mouth closed and fled ungracefully from the enclosed space.

\------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Six

Jim bumped Blair's shoulder with his elbow. "Sorry I was a bit -- gruff. You know, about the whole dissertation thing. Guess I'm not used to having my life examined."

"It's okay, Jim. I'm sorry I didn't explain to you that I was going to talk to Carolyn, and why. I should have, but I honestly didn't want to skew the data. I shouldn't be talking to you about my project at all, but..." He shrugged, staring down at the tip of his shoe.

"You want some breakfast?" Jim asked.

Blair looked into his friend's eyes. It was Jim's way of asking if everything was okay between them. He smiled and nodded, knowing that he couldn't really answer that question, not to Jim and not even to himself, but instead of launching into an in depth discussion of their relationship, which Jim would certainly not appreciate, he just nodded. "Yeah. I'm starving. Not to mention dead tired."

"Simon's crazy if he thinks I'm working the night shift tonight. So how about we eat, then head home to sleep for twelve hours. Then we'll eat again."

Blair laughed. "Sounds good to me. Lead on."

Breakfast was eaten, pancakes, eggs, sausage and coffee. Blair ignored the calories and fat. After the night he'd had, he needed some fuel for his tired body and his exhausted mind. Doing the research, keeping up with his TA duties, and helping Jim out at all hours of the day and night were taking its toll on him. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and he was very grateful to get home, take a quick shower and then fall into bed. He had just started to drift off when he heard bells ringing, and he remembered Jim's words about the movie, A Wonderful Life, and how angels get their wings. If only he had someone to watch over him...

He watched, his eyes wide with astonishment, as the figure descended from the clouds to lightly drop to the ground beside him. He stared as the figure walked gracefully toward him. The man, if he was a human, was absolutely beautiful. He was tall and well built with a firm chest and broad shoulders. He had soft, almost glowing, light brown hair and clear blue, smiling eyes. He wore only what could be described as a loincloth, white in color, that was wrapped around his waist. As he walked forward, the cloth shimmered with some sort of ethereal light. As did his wings.

He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Wings? "What...? Who...? Oh, God!"

The angel smiled. "He did send me, but you may call me James." The wings fluttered, spread widely before compactly folding behind James' back.

"Are you an... angel?"

The bright blue eyes twinkled and a happy smile crossed the angel's face. "Good guess, Chief. I'm not just any angel. I'm your guardian angel. Your wish is my command."

"Hang on. Isn't that what the genie said to Aladdin?" he asked, his gaze still focused on the man's -- wings.

James laughed deeply, the crinkles around his eyes deepening. James was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Of course, his experience with angels was somewhat limited. With that thought, he snorted.

"What?" James asked, his curiosity radiating from his expressive eyes.

"Nothing," he answered. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"That when a bell rings, an angel gets his or her wings."

James smiled and reached out, cupping his face in a wide hand. "There are many ways. That is one of them." tThe angel moved closer. "The others are trade secrets."

"What are you doing?" he asked, his heart kicking into overdrive as James' fingers stroked his face before moving to rest against his neck.

"Listening to your heartbeat. My fingertips hear the blood singing in your veins. I can smell the love you have to give, and I see your inner most desires."

"Oh," he said breathlessly, the tender touch arousing him as no other ever had. "I... I love you."

James leaned forward slightly and said softly, "And I, you." He pressed their mouths together in a light kiss before drawing away. "I am here to give you your heart's desire." He opened his mouth to speak, but James pressed his fingers onto his lips. "Let me do this for you."

Swallowing hard, he nodded. He was not surprised when he was swept up by the angel's strong arms and carried through a field of wild flowers to be gently placed in the center of a wide four-poster bed. The curtains of white gauze that surrounded the bed fluttered in the warm, gentle breeze and the sun's rays danced on his skin. When he glanced down at himself, he was naked, but it wasn't embarrassing, it was so right. His gaze found James', and he was unable to speak when he saw the deep love radiating from the clear blue depths. Tears of joy threatened to spill because of the wonderfulness of the feelings.

James smiled and gently took him into his strong arms. James kissed him passionately. With his eyes closed, he reveled in the feel of the silky skin against him, and in the background of his mind, he heard an unusual rustling sound. When James released his lips, he glanced around, searching for the source. He was shocked when he saw that James' wings had changed from white to gold.

"Why...?" he asked. "How...?"

James grinned. "Love does that to an angel's wings."

"It does?"

"Yes, my prince. Now let me love you."

James' passion almost overwhelmed him; it was so deep and clean. How he knew this wasn't important right now, only that it was the truth.

"Am I worthy?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Yes," James answered. "Forever."

He gave himself over at that moment. "Yes," he replied. "Forever."

James smiled again, and they moved together in harmony, melding as one. He cried aloud at his release and his lover joined him. Sated, they lay together, the warm breeze fluttering the curtains that surrounded them. The fragrance of field flowers tickled his nose, and he scratched it with a deep chuckle. Turning to his stomach, he raised his head to look down into the face of his lover, who lay stretched out on his back, a smile playing on his lips. That is when he saw that his angel's wings had disappeared.

"James? Your wings are gone!" he cried, unable to hide the consternation from his voice, but James merely smiled.

"Of course. You and I are now one. I have no further need for wings when I have your love. It gives me flight as no wings could."

James' face showed his complete acceptance of his new situation, and since angels knew more than he, all he could do was to move closer to his lover and kiss him with all the love he had to give.

"I love you, James," he said softly, his voice laden with emotion.

"And I love you... my guide..."

Still smiling, Blair woke gently. He sighed with happiness at the idea of Jim loving him. Jim as an angel was certainly amusing, but when he thought about the idea, he realized that his friend had many qualities that a guardian angel should have. Jim certainly had watched over him these past years, that much was true. Jim protected him, and had saved his life more than once. If anybody was a protector, his Sentinel was.

Blair rolled from the bed, and after a visit to the bathroom, made his way to the kitchen for a snack. He dug out peanut butter and jelly, and after putting a couple of slices of bread into the toaster, he leaned against the counter as he waited for the toast to pop up.

"Sandburg?"

Blair straightened up. "Yeah, Jim," he called. "I was hungry. Want some toast with peanut butter and jelly?"

"It's lunch time."

"And your point is...?" Blair asked smartly. "You want some or not?" He waited, hearing Jim moving about overhead before trotting down the stairs. The toast popped up and as he spread peanut butter on the bread, Jim leaned around him to dip his finger into the jar, Blair whacked his hand with the back of the butter knife.

"Hey!" Jim said with a chuckle. He licked his finger, smacking his lips loudly. "Hmmm. Good stuff."

Blair laughed. "Here. Go and sit. I'll make more," he said, handing his roommate a plate with the two pieces he had prepared.

"Milk?"

"Yeah. Sounds good." He smiled. He loved sharing with Jim, even simple things, like peanut butter and jelly. It made him feel special, like he was part of something. "I'll have chocolate syrup in mine."

"Oh, good idea!" Jim said happily. "I'm starving."

Blair nodded. "Me, too. Guess I'd better make more toast."

"You're a good cook. And a good friend."

Jim's simple praise made Blair smile. "Thanks. You, too. Say, do you believe in angels?"

\---------------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Seven

She walked across the room toward him. His first thought was that she wouldn't hurt him. After all, she was a Sentinel too. Sentinels were born to protect, not hurt. But then he remembered what she'd done...

With his hands in the air, he considered his alternatives. Alex was talking, something about solitary confinement, but he wasn't really listening. Could he make it around her and to the door before she could shoot? Not a chance, he realized. Better to play along until he could make a run for it. Better if she shot him here and left him for Jim to find. She might not kill him right off, and then Jim would save him... Then he remembered. His partner... His ex-partner wouldn't come. Not this time. Blair had betrayed his friend, and now, Jim hated him. Wanted him gone, out of his life forever, and Blair knew it was the right thing. He didn't deserve Jim's friendship, and he sure as hell didn't deserve Jim's love.

It was all his fault. His partner -- his ex-partner, Blair thought bitterly, no longer care about him, whether he lived or died, because he'd betrayed their friendship. He let himself be drawn to another Sentinel. Even when he knew she wasn't the one for him, he let himself follow along. He was so stupid, and now he would pay the ultimate price. It was what he deserved.

Blair kept his eyes on her and muttered something about a waste of her gift. She came closer, and while her lips moved, he stared, her voice dulled by the roar of his own blood racing as his heart pounded. Jim would feel so guilty when he found his dead body, but Blair hoped with all of his heart that Jim would somehow find the strength to carry on. Alex was close now, only a foot away. He forced himself to focus on her, and he managed to pick up the last few words that she said: "...but I can't leave you alive."

Blair slowly rose and when she waved the gun, indicating that he should proceed her, he came from around the desk. He considered letting her kill him without protest. After all, it was what he deserved after what he'd done. The telephone started to ring, and the sound made her look at the instrument while he looked at her. With her gaze momentarily distracted, he made his decision. Even though he was a horrible friend, he still didn't want to die. He grabbed a handful of files and tossed them toward her. She ducked automatically, and he bolted. He yanked the door open and ran, pounding down the hall. He heard her shout at him and follow. Blair ignored her order to stop, wondering briefly if she really thought he was that dumb, and ran as fast as he could. He made it to the main entrance of the building, but the door was locked. Quickly, he ran down another hallway and hurried toward the side emergency entrance.

When Blair reached the door, for a moment, it didn't open. "Shit!" he cried, slamming his fist on the door frame. Frantically, he pushed the bar opener again, and this time it gave, moving downward. He pushed the door open with such force that he stumbled out and lost his balance on the top step. Blair went down on one knee and as he rose, from the corner of his eye, he saw her. Alex gave him an angry glare and as he tried to gain his feet, he saw her raise the pistol and pull the trigger. He cried out and hunkered down, holding up his hands as if flesh and bone could stop a bullet. He froze, hearing the sound of the hammer being cocked as clearly as he had ever heard anything, but instead of hearing the report of a gun shot or feeling pain as a bullet ripped into his flesh, the only thing Blair heard was the dull click of a misfired pistol.

Alex screamed in frustration and tried again. Again, the pistol misfired. Momentarily stunned by the very idea that he hadn't been shot, when she let out an angry curse and fired yet again, Blair was finally spurred into action. He found his feet and ran across the sidewalk when something hit him in the back of the head with enough force to knock him from his feet. He stumbled and fell, slamming onto the sidewalk face first. He lay splayed on the pavement, dizzy from the impacts of whatever had smacked his head and from the impact of his own body against the pavement.

Blair gave a low moan and tried to rise. By the time he managed to get to his knees, he saw that Alex had moved to his right and when she leaned down to pick something up, he realized that she was picking up her weapon which she must have thrown at him in her anger. His vision tilted and blurred, but still, he struggled to rise. He wasn't successful in his struggle. Before he could escape, Alex was on him again, slamming the butt of the pistol against his temple. His world wavered and he sank without a sound. Black spots danced before his eyes, and even though he was still semi-conscious, he was unable to move. He couldn't focus and his eyes were filled with tears of pain. Blair let out a sob as he was dragged by the back of his jacket across the sidewalk and onto the grass.

Blair's body felt as limp as a rag doll. His arms flailed ineffectively at his sides and his legs seemed to be as heavy as cement blocks. He let out a strangled cry, terror coursing through him. He tried to move, but before he had a chance even think clearly, cold water washed over him, making him gasp. His head was forced under the water. Automatically, he closed his eyes and tried to hold his breath, but finally, he had to breathe. He sucked in a deep breath, but instead of air, water flooded his lungs. Suffocating, he panicked, screaming and kicking, but his killer's hands were merciless. They held him down until he knew he was dying. Blair's entire body screamed in protest, his lungs filled, and finally, his world went black...

He stood beside the fountain and turned in a complete circle. The sun was just coming up, he saw, surprised that he even noticed the bright yellow tingeing the Eastern sky. Remembering why he was here, fearfully, he looked around very cautiously, but she was nowhere to be seen. Alex... a Sentinel too, but a damaged one. He was happy she was gone. With a wash of relief, he smiled. Apparently, Alex had decided that killing him wasn't such a good idea after all and had hightailed it out of there. His smile widened into a full-fledged grin and he shrugged his shoulders, enjoying his good forture. But when he started to leave, he saw...

Something... or someone was in the water. Floating... He raced to the edge of the fountain and peered into the murky water. He saw... a body. Wait, that was his jacket. Whomever it was had long hair and it floated outwardly in long dark tendrils, like fingers reaching for something. It was his hair! The thought slammed home. It was him! He stared at -- himself, face down, his jacket billowing out from his body. He was... dead? Oh, God.

From behind him, he heard the sound of tires screeching and when he turned, he saw the familiar sight of Jim's truck pulling up. Jim leapt from the driver's side and started to run toward his building. Megan came from the passenger side and was moving quickly. She ran up the steps toward his office with Jim right behind, but something caught Jim's attention. His partner turned and his face paled.

He heard Jim clearly say, "Oh, my God." Then Jim raced toward him, but instead of stopping and speaking to him, he ran right through him! He turned, astonished, and watched as Jim and Brown hauled his body out of the fountain. They carried his body to the grass and turned him over. He looked down into the face. Still, he didn't want to believe, refused to believe, but how could he not see? He forced himself to look again, and the pale, lifeless face was truly his own. He knew that he was dead, and whatever he was seeing and hearing and feeling wasn't real. He'd read about out-of-body experiences, but he admitted he had never been one hundred percent sure he believed. But now, with the truth facing him, he believed. He was dead. He knew that with a finality that made him want to sob. That's why his partner hadn't seen him. He was dead... He was dead!

With disbelief, he watched Rafe, Brown and Megan as they stood over his dead body while Jim, with Simon's help, frantically tried to save him. Jim was trying to save him! Jim didn't hate him! With joy, he danced around before he reached out to touch Jim's shoulder, but his best friend never felt his touch as he kept up his efforts on the body before him, administering CPR. He watched when the paramedics arrived, and Jim and Simon moved away. Jim was crying! He almost cried himself when he saw Simon holding Jim, consoling him. But when the paramedic turned to Jim and said, "Sorry", Jim lost it. He fell to his knees and begged him to live! He could hear his friend's frantic pleas: "Come on, Sandburg. Come on, damn it!" After many tense moments, Simon had to physically haul Jim away from his body. Jim was bereft, and he cried,"No! No! He's alive!"

He tried to touch Jim, to console his friend; tried to tell him it was okay, but something pulled him away, and he couldn't stop it. He reached out for his sobbing partner, but Jim and everything else faded away before his eyes...

\--------------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Blair rubbed his weary eyes and sighed deeply. He picked his way down the steps that led to the doorway into the temple where Jim had immersed himself in the vision pool. He didn't bother glancing back. This temple was the find of a lifetime for any anthropologist, but Blair was too tired to even care. Ever since he'd come back... No, ever since Jim had brought him back from the dead, things had gone from bad to worse.

With heavy legs, Blair made his way to Jim's side, where he sat on one of the thousand year old stones. He wondered if Jim even cared about the historical significance of the carved rock on which he rested.

"Hey, man. You okay?" He couldn't see Jim's face, but to Blair, his body language said he was confused about something.

With a slight shrug, Jim explained, "You know, when I got out of that grotto, I realized I had it all laid out right in front of me -- all the answers to it all. But in one way, you know, I just wanted to go back in there so bad. I mean, just..." He gave another small shrug, almost as if to convey that he didn't have a clue how to explain what had happened.

"But you didn't," Blair said softly.

"No."

"See," Blair continued, "that's the difference between you two. She lost her way." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "It's hard to believe she was a Sentinel too. Just doesn't seem right somehow."

Jim didn't answer, but instead, he sat silently. Blair finally wandered off to find a bottle of water. His head was pounding and his chest felt tight. He could feel the congestion still clogging his lungs, and after a few small coughs, he managed to dig through one of the packs to find the water. As he sipped, he watched Jim intently. His partner still hadn't said what he'd experienced in the grotto, and Blair didn't expect he ever would. After all, Blair had prodded his Sentinel several times about their shared vision where the panther and the wolf had merged in a dazzlingly bright light. Blair felt that the vision they had shared had great significance, and he wanted to explore and examine the reasons for the experience. Jim, however, made it very clear that he had absolutely no desire to "take that trip" with him. Blair doubted that he ever would, and the very thought made his heart sink to new lows.

Now that Alex had been taken away, it was time for them to return to Washington. Blair tried not to think about what was going to happen when they made it home. With a snort, he remembered he had no home. Sure, Jim had saved his life. Jim had entered his vision to save him. That had to count for something! But even though Blair knew without a doubt that they were meant for each other, and that the merging of their animal spirits was the most wondrous thing that could ever happen to two people, his partner apparently had no such compunction. In fact, he was more than willing to ignore the entire experience. The very thought made Blair feel sad and lonely, and he was too exhausted to try any more.

The trip home was long and tedious, and he fell into silence, slumping in his plane seat with his face turned toward the window. He waved off food and snapped at Jim when his partner tried to press the issue, insisting that he at least keep hydrated. By the time they landed in Cascade forty-eight hours after standing on the temple steps, Blair was feeling hot and dizzy. His lungs ached, and he couldn't stifle the cough that rattled his chest and made his head ache.

Jim hustled Blair into the truck and instead of taking him back to the loft, he blinked blearily when Jim pulled into the emergency entrance of Cascade General and practically carried him into the emergency room. Blair weakly protested Jim's rough treatment of him, but he honestly felt horrible, so he let Jim propel him into the hospital. He wasn't surprised when, two hours later, he found himself in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV, being subjected to a myriad of procedures and tests.

Blair lay in bed, his eyes blurry and his body feeling as if it was on fire. He batted away the hands that insisted on touching him and tried to escape from the prison in which he found himself until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep, aided, he was sure, by the evil creatures who hovered around and over his bed. They latched onto his arms and legs, and held him down, rendering him immobile. He voiced disapproval of his imprisonment, and decried the jailers who were keeping him from his beloved...

He raced through the thick fog that swirled around his face and blocked his eyes from seeing what was ahead. But he didn't care. He knew what lay ahead... Jim. His lover, his life, his Sentinel. Blindly, he ran on and on, knowing in his heart that Jim would be there. Jim would hold him and caress him and love him. Something snagged at his ankle. He stumbled forward, falling. Twisting his body, he looked back, seeing the gnarled hand holding his leg. The face of whoever was keeping him from his love was hidden by the thick fold of a hood.

"Let go!" he cried, pulling his leg hard to dislodge the grasp.

"No," hissed a voice from deep inside the hood. "It is not to be. He will never want you."

"Who are you? Leave me alone!" Harder he fought for release.

The hood slipped back and the face was revealed. Lank red hair, dirty and matted, covered the -- apparition's head. He cried aloud when he saw drops of blood drip from the ends of the creature's hair. Whatever it was, it looked female to his startled eyes. Sunken blue eyes rimmed in blood red peered out, lacking in emotion and warmth. "You must follow the path I have set for you," the old woman cackled. "It is your destiny."

Some flicker of recognition slammed into his head. "Mom?" he whispered, shocked at the appearance of the old crone. "Why are you doing this?"

"You're not cut out for this kind of work, sweetie," the creature said, its voice cold and nasty. "Make another choice."

"No... No, I want Jim! Jim loves me. He needs me!"

"You're not a cop," the voice said, now deep and gruff.

He gasped, the face morphing into a dark-skinned man. A shock of white hair streamed down the vision's head and shoulders, and the black eyes were pinpoints of evil, the centers glowing red. "Go away! I want Jim!"

"You're not a cop," it repeated, the hand crushing his ankle bone.

He cried out in pain, trying to escape but still, he was held fast. "Jim," he wailed. "Please... I love you. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to betray you!"

"I’ve got to have a partner I can trust!" Angry, bitter words came from the apparition's lips.

Again, when he looked into the creature's face, it had changed. Now piercingly clear blue eyes glared at him, searing his soul with the sting of his betrayal. He saw truth in those eyes: he'd never be good enough. Never.

"Jim?" he whispered, his throat closing. Open mouthed, he gasped, unable to breathe, but even in his distress, he could clearly see the apparition. Brittle, dank brown hair covered the vision's head, and when he saw something moving on the hair, he was terrified to see small brown spiders moving among the dirty locks.

He screamed.

"Scream all you like. No one cares. Especially not me," the wraith of Jim hissed coldly.

His heart broke, his soul shattered. The hand melted away and just as suddenly as they had come, they were gone. He was truly alone. Cold and lonely, he felt as if he were encased in a block of ice. He shivered violently, mewling his distress before, thankfully, everything went dark...

Blair let out a small sigh and opened his eyes. He focused on the figure hovering next to him and saw the familiar gaze of his partner.

"Hey, Chief. Welcome back."

"Jim?" he whispered.

"I'm right here, Sandburg. Just take it easy."

"What happened?"

"You spiked a high fever. You've been delirious for two days, burning up. Your lungs caught a nasty infection from..." Jim's voice trailed off and his eyes slid away.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, unable to keep the tears from sliding down his face. "It's all my fault."

"Not on your life, Sandburg," Jim said firmly. "It wasn't your fault. If anything, it was mine. I let that stupid bitch hurt you!" Jim's face was cold and angry when he added, "Now I wish I had killed her."

Blair sighed and closed his eyes. "That's not who you are. I shouldn't have-"

"Stop right there. It's not your fault, and I don't want to hear another word. Got it?"

Jim's hand was comfortingly rubbing his arm. If Jim were here and had stayed while he'd been -- out of it, maybe he did care. A glance told Blair that his partner hadn't shaved or changed clothes and that he looked exhausted. He looked like hell, so it was apparent that he had been worried. Blair opened his eyes and slowly nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

Jim gave him a quick smile and brushed the backs of his fingers down Blair's cheek. "I'm giving the orders around here-"

"So what else is new?" he quipped.

"About time you remembered that, Chief. Now I want you to rest while I check with the doc, and let them know you're awake and somewhat coherent."

"Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"Did I -- do or say anything... strange while I was... you know..." Blair looked into Jim's eyes, pleading for understanding, just in case he'd made a fool of himself. From his friend's expression, he knew that he had, indeed, said things that gave Jim pause, but Jim didn't seem angry at whatever he'd blurted out. Instead, Jim's attitude seemed sympathetic and, realizing he was still feeling quite weak and might be completely off base, his partner almost appeared -- pleased. About what, he wasn't sure, but it did a lot to assuage his feelings of unhappiness that he'd been having lately. "I'm really sorry."

Jim grinned. "I don't take the ramblings of a sick friend to heart, Blair. You were out of it, so nothing you said mattered. Now I expect you to follow orders. Rest."

Blair managed a half-hearted smile. He was tired and right now, sleeping, dreamlessly sleeping sounded so inviting. "Okay." He closed his eyes and in moments, he was gone...

\-------------------------

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Jim piled home fries on Blair's plate, along with two pieces of chicken.

"Thanks. Smells great!" Blair poured ketchup over his potatoes.

"So tell me again why you felt the need to dive into the water from that helicopter?" Jim scowled, adding bleu cheese dressing to his salad before handing Blair the bottle.

"Jim, man, I was pissed. Okay? Get off it already."

"Sandburg," Jim groused, "you dove into the water unnecessarily. The pilot would have hovered over the perp, and I would have come back and picked him up! I had a boat, you do realize."

Blair frowned, pointing a chicken leg at Jim. "I didn't think about it! I saw Ventriss getting away, so I figured I'd do the Ellison macho 'thang'," he drawled, "and nab the asshole."

Jim chewed a piece of tomato before he guffawed. "I do not do a 'thang'," he groused. "I catch bad guys."

"Well, excuse me!" Blair said theatrically. "I didn't write the damned manual for Murder 101. I have to learn on the fly, you know."

"You're not eating your peas."

"I told you, I hate peas."

"Sandburg, no peas, no dessert."

Blair's right eyebrow rose. "Oh? Dessert? What kind?"

Laughing, Jim rose. "Eat your peas."

Blair joined in Jim's laughter. "I'm eating. Man, you are worse than my mother ever was! She never made me eat my vegetables."

Snickering, Jim explained, "I love you more than your mother ever could."

With his eyes widening, Blair looked at Jim with surprise on his face. "Really? You love me?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure. We're best buds, aren't we? You watch my back; I watch yours."

"Oh... okay. Yeah, sure. Great. Best friends." Blair ducked his head, blinking rapidly. When he looked up, he was composed and nodded. "I'll always watch your back."

Jim had his head buried in the fridge. He called over his shoulder, "Way to go, partner." Then he turned and walked toward the table with a plate in his hands. "Ta da!" he said, his eyes lighting up like a little kid's. "Happy Birthday!"

Blair looked at the cake Jim set down before him. "Wow." He reached out to dig a finger into the frosting when Jim slapped his hand. "Hey!"

"Candles, Sandburg. Don't you know anything about birthdays?" Jim pushed two fat white dinner table candles into the top of the cake, making Blair laugh.

"Jim, one, it's not my birthday. And two, those aren't birthday candles."

"Blair," Jim said, emphasizing Blair's first name, "one, I forgot your birthday for what? Three years now?" At Blair's shrug, Jim pointed a finger. "And two, candles are candles. Now close your eyes and make a wish."

Still grinning, Blair did as bid, closing his eyes and wishing his favorite wish -- that Jim would always love him -- before he opened them and blew out the flames.

Jim slapped him on the back, and they cut into the cake, chocolate on one layer, vanilla on the other, covered with whipped creme icing. They ate until they were almost sick, laughing and eventually flicking bits of icing from the ends of their forks at each other until Jim called a halt when he freaked out over the mess they'd made. Together they cleaned up, washed dishes and crashed on the sofa in front of the television until they both fell asleep...

"Happy Birthday, Chief."

"Jim!" he cried, his mouth dropping open as his roommate swept the shower curtain aside and held out a cupcake, complete with burning candle. But it wasn't the candle that had him shocked beyond words. It was the fact that Jim was buck naked with a blue bow tied around his... "Jim?" he said again, finally finding his voice.

"Blow," Jim said seductively.

"What?" he said, his voice cracking.

"The candle, bonehead."

With wide eyes, he nodded, pursing his lips and blowing out the small flame.

"Nice mouth action," Jim said, licking his lips.

"What?" he repeated.

"Cat got your tongue?" Jim reached out and swiped the cupcake down Blair's nose, leading a trail of sticky frosting. "Oops. Guess somebody better clean that up."

Still in shock, he didn't know what to say when Jim stepped over the tub's side and joined him in the shower, pushing the curtain closed. Jim's hands found his hips and Jim's tongue found his nose. "Mmmm. Good stuff," his lover said when he retreated a few inches. "Darn. There's a bit on your mouth. Let me get that." Jim didn't wait for his answer, but leaned down and took his mouth in a searing kiss. Jim's hands moved, one to cup his butt cheek and the other to cup his head. He was thoroughly kissed until he was panting and hard, whimpering with desire as the exploring tongue did a merry jig deep in his mouth.

"You enjoying your birthday, Blair?" Jim asked when he finally released him, a mischievous grin on his lips. Mutely, he nodded emphatically, making Jim laugh deeply. "Panther got your tongue?" his partner asked, bopping his nose with a fingertip. "Look! There's more icing on your stomach! And it's moving down as we speak. Looks like my job here isn't finished yet."

When Jim dropped to his knees and started to lick his belly and stick a warm tongue into his navel, he almost fell when his knees buckled.

"Whoa, there, Partner. Don't want you taking a header. Better hang on. This ride's just starting."

He choked back a bark of laughter when Jim's mouth wrapped around his cock and sucked. "Jim!" he shouted. "Oh, God."

Jim released his organ with a wet slurp. "Found your tongue, I see. So tell me what you want?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Don't stop!"

Jim laughed aloud. "Your wish is my command." With a lecherous grin, Jim returned to his chore, taking him deep into his mouth and throat while his lover's roaming fingers explored his buttocks as he sucked.

"Jim!" he called, coming hotly into his lover's mouth. His fingers scrabbled in Jim's hair as he came, and he cried his pleasure out loud. "Oh, my God!"

Jim finally released his limp dick and sat back, grinning happily. "Liked that, I see."

"It was fabulous," he managed to blurt out, his entire body one huge raw nerve. He'd waited so long for Jim that now that it had happened, he was overwhelmed with emotion. Love, friendship, caring, and pure lust warred for its place. He smiled down at his lover, petting the wet hair and running a fingertip over his facial features. "You are so beautiful," he said softly, slipping a finger into Jim's mouth, where his ardent lover sucked greedily on the digit. "Make love to me, Jim. Now."

Jim's mouth stilled and their gazes met. Jim slowly nodded and rose. "Your room. Hurry," Jim ordered, echoing his firm tone as he turned off the taps, pushed the curtain aside and started to rummage through the medicine cabinet.

He also climbed out, grabbed a towel and after pulling the door open, rushed into his room where he yanked the blankets aside and threw himself down on the bed. Jim joined him in moments. As his lover crossed the room, he twisted the cap from the tube of lube he'd found and tossed it over his shoulder. By the time Jim arrived at the bed, he had smeared a huge amount of lube onto himself and with a big grin, climbed onto the bed.

He moaned softly, making a space between his legs for his lover to position himself. He buried his face into the pillows when he felt Jim's fingers press into his body. He cried out, throwing out his legs as far as they would go. His head came up as the fingers explored, and he tossed his head back, crying in pleasure.

Jim moved over him and with his free hand, turned his face so that they could kiss. It was awkward and they were unable to hold the position for long. Jim growled and removed his fingers. "Up," he ordered.

He blinked dazedly, wondering what had happened to the searching fingers and passionate lips. "Huh?" he said.

"I need to see you. Going to lie down. Make love with you on top."

"Oh, okay."

Jim threw himself down onto the bed and lay on his back, his hard cock a glistening invitation. He climbed onto his mate's body with a leg on each side and positioned himself over the waiting cock, lowering his body with Jim's hands guiding him until he felt the head press against his entrance. He huffed out a steeling breath and pushed downward steadily until he felt Jim enter. Moving slowly, he didn't stop until he felt his butt cheeks resting against his lover's thighs.

"Oh!" he whispered. "Got to move!"

"Then move it, Chief!"

Together, they set up a mind-blowing rhythm, both men panting and grunting until Jim pushed up and with a cry, he felt his lover release his seed deep inside. He loved how Jim called his name: "Blair!"

"Love you," he responded. Jim's hand found his renewed erection and stroked firmly until he came again with a second, smaller orgasm. "Jim! Love you so much!"

Jim's hands held his face between them. "I love you, Blair."

He leaned down and they kissed gently, their lips lightly brushing over each other. Finally, with a small sigh, he moved off his lover and after wiping them both with the towel he'd brought with him after his shower, he reached down and brought up the blankets to cover them. They snuggled tightly together, and after whispering more words of love, fell asleep...

"Love you, Jim," Blair murmured, coming out of his dream. He blinked and saw Jim sleeping beside him on the sofa. The television screen cast a blinking glow into the room, and Blair sighed deeply. He reached out and ever so gently touched Jim's hair with the tip of a finger. "I will always love you." Blair rose and shook Jim's arm. "Hey, man. Come on. Your bed's more comfortable than the sofa." Blair stopped, realizing his words could be taken a couple of different ways. He hoped that Jim wouldn't rip him a new one thinking he meant "your bed" as in "our" bed, his and Jim's. But when Jim's eyes opened, he didn't say anything about Blair's bad choice of words. He just smiled and stretched.

"Yeah. I'm beat. Think I'll brush my teeth and hit the sack."

"Me, too. Night, Jim."

Jim's gaze caught his, and for a second, he thought that his friend was going to say something more, but instead, he smiled and said, "Sleep tight, Chief."

\----------------------------------------

Chapter Sixty

"Man, I am tired of being kidnapped. By Kincaid twice, no less," Blair groused as he took off his jacket and balled it up, throwing it toward his room. "I am not going to let it happen again!"

Jim gave Blair a look of exasperation and annoyance. "Listen here," he said firmly, pointing a finger toward Blair, "you've managed to stay alive for all this time in spite of being kidnapped by Kincaid-"

"Twice!" Blair shouted, throwing out his hands in anger. "Not once, but-"

"Twice," Jim finished. "Yeah, Sandburg, I can count too. But the main thing is you lived to tell about it. That's the important part."

Blair sighed impatiently. "I know it is! But sometimes a man gets annoyed at being pushed around!"

Jim laughed. "Geez, Chief, you'd think you were some sort of commando instead of a student!" Still laughing, Jim walked over to the fridge and pulled out two beers. He held out his hand, waving the bottle at Blair, who took it with a glare. "Don't get grumpy with me, Sandburg. I saved your ass -- again," he added.

Blair's glare deepened. Jim was decidedly too pompous about the entire thing for Blair's liking. "I could save you, Ellison. Didn't I help Simon and Joel when Oliver tried to kill your own ass?"

Jim took a pull of his beer. "Helped. That's the opportune word. They led the charge; you followed along."

Blair's mouth fell open. "Why of all the... You are such a jerk!"

Jim shrugged. "I tell it like it is."

"Well, so do I, and you, James Ellison, are an asshole." Blair turned and smacked his bottle onto the counter. "Good night," he said hotly as he stomped into his room and slammed the door behind him.

Blair threw himself down on the bed and muttered to himself, "He is such a pain in the ass!"

From the living room he heard Jim call out, "Takes one to know one!"

"Man, give me a break!" he shouted. "Do you always listen to private stuff?"

"Sentinel, remember?" Jim called.

"Jerk, remember?" Blair answered. Hearing Jim's responding laugh, he covered his head with a pillow and hid in the dark for a good while. Finally, he heard Jim climb the stairs to his room. He waited until he heard the sounds of his partner settling into bed before he rose and with a tired sigh, went to the bathroom to wash up and brush his teeth. He thought about the night's events, how Kincaid had been planning to sail away in a damned submarine, of all things, and how he almost got away with it but for that super four point shot of Sloman's. It was a thing of beauty, he realized with a grin. Still, being kidnapped again, by Kincaid of all people, still rankled. But he had to admit, being alive to grouse about it was a good thing. Ablutions finished, he climbed into bed and after he mulled over the events once again, he finally fell into a fitful sleep...

He killed the engine of his black '69 Roadrunner and coasted about a hundred feet into a stand of small trees and brush. After making sure the car was hidden from view, he opened the truck and took out his equipment. He grabbed his black leather backpack and checked the contents. He made sure he had a length of rope, an extra clip for his pistol, a box of ammo, several bottles of water, as well as other essentials that any good pro needed. Satisfied, he swung the straps over his shoulders and securely buckled the front snap. He made sure his hair was firmly tied back before he put the black cap on his head and yanked it down low over his eyes. Absentmindedly wiping his leather-clad hands on the black leather pants that he wore, he started toward his destination.

He'd been searching without pause for the past thirty-six hours for his mark. And now he knew exactly where the target was. Unfortunately, the target had managed to take a very valuable commodity without permission and now, the victim was being subjected to grievous bodily injury. His fury was held in firm check. He knew without a doubt that the victim, a Sentinel ranked as having the highest possible sensory abilities, had been kidnapped and was now being used and abused. That really pissed him off.

He crouched low beside a wall, taking stock of his surrounding. He counted three guards, and two of them were walking the perimeter with scent dogs. He smiled. Moving quickly, he dispatched the dog-less guard first, dragging the body out of sight. He took out the other guards just as easily. As he pulled their bodies into the brush, he grinned as the dogs followed along, whimpering and cavorting at his feet. His empathic abilities to canines had come in handy once again. After treating each animal to good scratch and a hug, he commanded them to lie down and sleep, which they did immediately. He gave a cold smile, and moved on.

Gaining entry was easy. He connected his mobile decipher emitter to the keypad, and in seconds, he was inside. With a few more tricks he had up his sleeve, he disabled the two guards he encountered and killed power to the entire building, along with the backup generator, except the grid supplying the major torture chamber. He didn't want to alert his nemesis that he was closing in, but he was successful in rendering any interior alarms useless.

Stealthily, he crept toward the main holding area. From outside the chamber, what he heard made him cringe. Cries of pain echoed to his ears, much too loud considering the thickness of the walls. The Sentinel must be in agony, and his blood boiled in anger at the thought of this precious gift being harmed in any way. Forcing himself back to task at hand, he pushed away the very idea that he knew exactly what Kincaid, his arch enemy, was doing -- torturing the Sentinel he'd captured earlier. Kincaid was an evil, vile creature and another's suffering was his joy. But this would not go unpunished! The man would pay! He silently swore a vow and hurried forward, knowing the quicker he finished his task, the quicker the Sentinel would be free. He turned his focus to the chamber and listened again. The good news for him was that Kincaid hadn't yet been alerted to his presence. He heard renewed cries of pain from the Sentinel. The bad news was that the tormented captive's cries were weakening rapidly.

He ignored the main entrance to the chamber and made his way along the wall until he came to a large painting. He stood, examining the frame. There! His nimble fingers danced along the wood until he heard a small click. With a satisfied smile, he swung the painting aside and crept into the secret passageway. In moments he was peering into the chamber, using the conveniently placed observation panel mounted on the inside of the chamber wall and cleverly hidden behind a hideous mask. He glanced around, suddenly sickened by what he observed.

The Sentinel was strapped down to an operating table while Kincaid walked around, clearly admiring his work. The Sentinel -- a man, he knew -- was in agony. Upon his body had been fastened many round white electrode patches. From his vantage point, he could see them dotting the man's entire body, with no part left untouched. He grimaced, not wanting to think about the pain that could be inflicted when Kincaid touched something on the panel that he now approached as he cackled demoniacally, the vile laugh he heard making his anger mount. Kincaid's hand reached out, almost in slow motion, as if to alert the captive that something horrible was about to occur.

The finger pressed down. The Sentinel's entire body contorted against his bonds, arching from the hard surface as much as the tight bonds would allow, before stiffening painfully, He didn't understand how anybody could withstand such torture and live. The man's mouth was open and his eyes were wide and staring upwardly, but no sound escaped his lips until Kincaid pressed another button. The man's body sagged limply before his eyes, and the scream that was leaked from the contorted mouth was much weaker than the one he'd heard earlier. He realized that the Sentinel's life was slowly being ripped from him bit by bit, and if Kincaid had the chance to touch anything on the panel again, the Sentinel would surely be dead.

He felt tears fall down his face. No one dared touch a Sentinel! Not on his watch, and not this particular Sentinel. No one, not even the Controller whose duty it was to oversee all assignments in this jurisdiction, knew that this was his Sentinel, and that he would destroy anyone who dared touch what was his. He had sworn an oath to this man that he would protect him, always. And he always kept his word.  
He waited until Kincaid's back was to him before he moved out of his protective cover cautiously, his black leather clothing blending into the dark shadows until, on silent feet, he reached his destination. A flick of his wrist and the blade seated into his hand. He did not hesitate, but with liquid lightning moves, he slit the evil one's throat. The vile Kincaid died without a word, falling to the floor in a repugnant lump. He watched for barely a moment, reveling in the growing pool of blood. For a brief moment, he wished that the man hadn't died quite so easily; that he had been made to suffer, but there were more important things that had to be considered. His main goal was his Sentinel. He turned to his treasure.

"James!" he cried, rushing to the man's side. Wide eyes looked at him, wet with tears of pain. "Shhh. I am here. I will save you."

"Chief?" James whispered through lips bloody and cracked from his torture.

"Yes. I am here," he said reassuringly.

"Kin... caid?"

"He is dispatched." James' eyes looked at him with shock and surprise. "I swore an oath to you once, James, that if that madman ever touched you again, he would die for his transgressions. I have honored my word." As he spoke, he unbuckled the bonds tethering James to the table. "Lie still while I remove these vile things," he hissed angrily as he peeled the circles away from James' tender skin. He muttered and cursed as he did so, each circle revealing burned skin underneath. "May he burn in hell!" he cried when he was forced to cause his Sentinel pain when he removed the electrodes from his body, and it was with great despair that he removed the patches from James' genital area. James cried out in pain, his body shaking. With his own tears coursing down his face, he tried to find a place that wasn't damaged and gently touched the skin with his bare fingers. "Shh. I am here. Shhh. Be calm. I will carry you to safety."

Grabbing up a blanket, he wrapped his Sentinel in the clean folds and lifted him in his arms. He carried his prize out of the dreaded room and down the hallway. With brute strength, he kicked out the main door and made his way to a stone bench several dozen feet away.

"Rest, Sentinel. I will return."

"Don't leave me!" the Sentinel cried.

"It will return. I swear it." He ran loving fingers across the Sentinel's matted hair and down his cheek. Seeing the shattered look on his Sentinel's face, he took the man into his arms and rocked him comfortingly until the Sentinel's body no longer shook with fear. "Good," he crooned. "My sweet." He placed a small kiss on his Sentinel's forehead. "Ten minutes, and I will return." When the Sentinel finally nodded, he smiled. "Good boy," he said softly. "You are brave."

With a final smile, he ran for his car. Starting the powerful engine, he smiled as the sweet sound of eight cylinders came to life. He put the vehicle into gear and gunned the engine, leaving ten foot high tails of dirt and grass as he raced back to his Sentinel. He pulled up close to James, and with much gentleness, ensconced his injured Sentinel into the back seat amid a nest of pillows and blankets. He pressed a bottle of clean, sweet water into his hand and after bestowing a kiss on his cheek, he patted James' shoulder.

"Rest while I drive us home." He smiled when James nodded. "I will tend to your wounds and bathe you. Then you will sleep in a warm bed surrounded by clean linens and my eternal love."

"Thank you," James said softly, his clear eyes smiling.

He nodded and before he climbed into the driver's seat, he walked to the main door and after opening the top of an incendiary grenade that he'd retrieved from his pack, he threw it into the evil conclave. In a few moments, it opened with a harsh 'pow' and fire spread quickly through the entire building. He walked toward his car and his Sentinel as the building exploded, illuminating the entire night sky. He never looked back. Climbing in, they drove into the sunrise. Together, as it was meant to be...

Blair woke with the deep rumble of a big block engine echoing in his ears. He laughed out loud. "Good grief," he said with a sigh at his own silliness. "Where the hell do these come from? There must be a book in this somewhere," he added, chuckling as he rose from the bed. "At least that one wasn't creepy or weird. Well, it was weird," he admitted with a snort. He yanked on his robe and made his way into the kitchen, where Jim was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of oatmeal.

"Morning, Jim."

Jim leaned back in his chair. "Are you still pissed at me?"

Blair shook his head, shrugging. "Nah. Got any more oatmeal?"

Jim stared at him for a long moment before he nodded. "Homemade. None of that packaged crap. Maple, with pecans. It's still hot." He turned back to his breakfast.

"Thanks. And Jim?" Jim glanced up. "Sorry about last night. Thanks for rescuing me."

Jim nodded. "Eat, Chief."

With a vision of the commando rescuing the captive, he smiled and said, "Sure, Jim."

\-------------------------------

Chapter Sixty-One

Blair pulled up alongside the man who strode down the darkened street. He softly tooted the horn, cringing inwardly. No way Jim wouldn't have heard his car pulling up. Hell, Jim knew Blair's car engine two blocks away. This wasn't good. He rolled down his window when Jim's stride didn't falter.

"Hey, Jim," Blair called softly, knowing Jim was distressed over Veronica's death, and even more wounded by her betrayal. He wished he knew the whole story, but knowing Jim, it was definitely wishful thinking. When Jim ignored him, he tried again, "Jim, please..."

With a sigh and slump of his shoulders, Jim glanced sideways. "Sandburg."

Blair heard the irritation in Jim's tone, and he knew that it was hiding what Jim truly felt: hurt, angry, betrayed. "Hop in," he offered, keeping his tone light.

"No."

"It's two in the morning, man, and this isn't the best part of town." Jim reached under his jacket and pulled his gun, waving it in the air for a moment. "Okay, point taken. The truth is, I'm afraid if somebody does mug you, you'll plug 'em."

Jim's step faltered momentarily and he finally stopped. Blair stepped on the brakes and waited. "You are such a pain in the ass."

"As you keep reminding me each and every day," Blair answered smartly. He was pleased to see Jim's mouth lift momentarily on one side. "We haven't eaten since lunch, and I'm starving. There's a taco over at Paddy's with your name on it."

Now Jim finally turned and gave Blair an exasperated glance. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Can't. Care about you."

Jim snickered and finally, he walked around the front of the Volvo and climbed in. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic!"

Blair drove through Paddy's, a favorite all-night taco stand on Vasquez Boulevard, and bought two of Paddy's Heart Attack specials. Jim didn't protest the purchase, nor did he speak at all on the entire drive home. He passively followed Blair into the loft and sat down at the table. He ate his food without enthusiasm, but at least he ate, Blair figured. After they'd cleaned up, he stood behind Blair at the counter while he put away the last few glasses. Blair turned.

"Chief..." Jim patted Blair's arm. "I'll be okay."

Blair nodded. "I know. No doubts at all. It's just that..." He shrugged, unsure how to frame his next statement.

"Just what?"

"You're hurting and... you won't talk to me. I want to help!" he pleaded. "I care about you."

Blair was happy that his partner didn't go ballistic, but he wasn't surprised when Jim gave a derisive chuckle. "Let it go, Sandburg. It's no big deal."

Looking into his partner's eyes, Blair could see the pain buried there. But he also knew that getting Jim to talk was worse than pulling teeth out of a rabid dog, intent on ripping your throat out. "I wish..." He paused, knowing that Jim wouldn't want to hear his emotionally impassioned pleas. Instead, he finally said quietly, "I'm here if you want to talk."

"I know. I'm tired. Good night." Jim turned and walked slowly across the room and up the stairs.

With a heavy heart, Blair didn't have much choice but to go to bed himself...

He leaned against the bar and watched the scene play out before him. Two soldiers and one woman were standing in a tight circle. A damned good-looking woman, he saw. If you liked that sort of thing, he then thought with a silent chuckle. She was nice, but the soldier... The light-haired one was wonderful. He moved closer. Ellison, read his name tag. The man was beautiful. If only he... But no, Ellison leaned in and kissed the woman possessively. The third wheel -- Archer, he saw on the nametag -- watched intently.

He watched Archer and saw the anger flare on the man's handsome face. He also saw something else -- hatred. The intense look quickly disappeared, and from all outward signs, Archer suddenly looked like he was pleased with Ellison and the woman's apparent love affair. He could see what was really going on. He'd been an observer of the human species for many years and from the set of Archer's face, he was actually worried for Ellison's life for a brief moment before something changed his mind in the next second. Archer took his gaze off Ellison and concentrated on the woman. Now he saw the game.

He picked up his bottle and casually walked around the trio to the other side of the bar. He set his bottle down and lifted a foot onto the footrest. Sipping his brew, he glanced right. From this angle, he had a much better vantage point. He glanced into the woman's face and saw something that made him angry. She wasn't in love with Ellison; she was using him to make the other guy jealous. Couldn't Ellison see it? But Ellison's face was happy and relaxed. His eyes twinkled when he spoke to the woman. Damn, the guy was in love. Or at least, in lust, he knew. With a body like that, most men would be in lust. Most men, he thought with a snicker. But not him. Ellison was the one he wanted. For years, he'd waited. And now he knew. This was the one. Finally, he'd found him. This would take some planning, but he was patient. He hadn't gotten to be his age without being patient.

He thought about his life for a moment. For some reason, he'd always felt that he'd been born -- wrong. He wasn't meant to be here, now, at this age. He was supposed to be younger, a student maybe. But that wasn't to be. He was older than Ellison, probably by at least ten to fifteen years, but suddenly, it didn't matter. Ellison was the one, and he'd be damned if he'd let the guy fade away after this woman hurt him. Ellison would not end up, lonely and drunk, in some dead end on blank street or a nobody in a no name town.

With a glance into the mirror behind the bar, he looked at his reflection. His short cropped dark hair was sprinkled with grey. He kept it cut short because of its propensity to curl irritatingly, but all in all, it looked good, he thought. He was successful and handsome, with dark blue eyes that people seemed to be drawn to. He was pleased that he looked confident and mature. Just what Ellison needed, he figured as he watched the young soldier. So what if he was a few years older. Older was definitely better in this situation, he knew. Ellison needed somebody to take care of him, and now that he'd found the man he was destined to be with, he set forth with confidence.

As he watched the trio through the mirror, he listened to their voices raised in teasing conversation. He heard Archer call the woman, Veronica. Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. But he realized that the outside didn't match the inside. And this schmuck, Ellison, didn't have a clue. But no matter. In forty-eight hours, Ellison would be his, and he'd take care of and care for the man with love and tenderness. As he observed the trio, he laughed quietly. Not forty-eight hours; this woman would dump the guy within twenty-four. But he would be there, right when Ellison needed him.

He waited, not surprised when Ellison and Veronica gave Archer the slip. Archer looked like his guts had been kicked out when he returned to the party with a fresh bottle of champagne to find that the party had moved on without him. Archer slammed the bottle on the bar and after tossing some money onto the counter, stalked from the establishment. He followed Archer following Ellison and Veronica. They ended up at a pretty nice hotel a couple of blocks away. When Archer disappeared into the main entrance, he waited a moment before he followed and watched. Archer was speaking to the receptionist, and when he handed the woman a note, she put it into the pigeon hole behind the counter marked "110." Archer nodded and left.

As he made his way around the building and under a wisteria-covered arch into the pool area, he thought about the note. He didn't need to read it to know that Archer was setting himself up to take Veronica as his own. And Veronica would go willingly, he knew. Poor Ellison.

He found the balcony that corresponded to the room's number and walked over. The night lent itself to warm breezes and the scent of flowers on the air. It also allowed the sounds of lovemaking to waft out of the open balcony doors to his ears. The couple were busy, he heard, as they loved each other.

"Enjoy, Ellison, because she's going to hurt you. And I'll be there when you need me." He smiled and left... for now.

\----------------------

Continuing on his mission, he arrived at the hotel early. His observations as he sat in the lounge area sipping a cup of coffee were rewarded. Veronica floated out through the lobby, fully dressed and looking ready for the day. She stopped at the desk and was handed the note. He watched intently as her eyes widened before they narrowed. Then a look of satisfaction crossed her face as she tapped the note in her gloved hand. She slipped the paper into her handbag and with a smile that was what he would call predatory and pleased at the same time, she glided out of the hotel and into a cab. She was definitely the cat who got the cream, as they say.

He hailed his own cab and followed. She arrived at another hotel a couple of blocks away and after paying the cabbie, slipped inside. He did the same, following her path. He saw the elevator doors close and waited, watching the floor indicator. When it stopped momentarily at four, he smiled. At the receptionist's counter, he asked for Archer's room number, slipping the man a twenty. With a nod of thanks, he trotted up the stairs and down the hall to 443. He stood outside the room, but he didn't need to listen for long. The couple was soon engaged in sex.

Turning away, he went to the lounge and waited. Two hours later, Archer and Veronica emerged. He was dressed smartly in his uniform, and she looked crisp and confident in her tailored suit. They walked two blocks down the street and turned a corner. He crossed the street and watched Archer and Veronica as they paused in front of an office building. From down the street, the figure of a soldier approached. He rose.

"Shit," he said under his breath. "Those sons of bitches!" He couldn't stop what was happening. All he could do was watch the tableau play out. Archer and Veronica stood very still, waiting... waiting. The moment Ellison turned the corner, flowers in hand, Archer and Veronica kissed. Ellison's face looked like his insides had been kicked out and instead of doing what most men would do, rush forward and demand an explanation, Ellison looked like a kicked dog. He turned away and tossed the flowers into the trash.

"Stupid motherfuckers!" he hissed angrily. He'd known that they were up to something, but he had no idea they would be so cruel. This was too much to bear. Whatever Ellison had done, he didn't deserve to be betrayed by his friends. He paid his bill quickly and followed Ellison.

The man wandered for hours, walking aimlessly. He wondered if the guy would eventually get tired, because he sure was. Finally, Ellison stopped at a dumpy-looking bar. He couldn't believe it when Ellison went in. The guy was looking for a fight. No other reason to visit this type of establishment. He raced toward the door, knowing that if he didn't hurry, there wouldn't be much left of the man. The guy was a boy scout, he was sure. He'd fight, sure, but it wouldn't be underhanded and nasty like the boys that frequented this place. Ten on one wouldn't quite be fair. Ten on two would even the odds quite a lot.

Things had started in the forty seconds it took him to make his way into the bar and for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior. Ellison was already being rousted by four or five ugly-looking guys, all armed with dangerous weapons. He pushed his way through the gaggle and grabbed Ellison's arm.

"You owe me a hundred bucks," he groused, pulling a knife. "Anybody got a problem?" he added, glaring at the crowd of men. Not waiting for an answer, he dragged Ellison from the place in spite of his protest. "Shut up," he hissed over his shoulder, pulling the man from the bar. They burst into the sunlight and he stood, blinking against the glare. Dropping Ellison's arm, he asked, "Are you stupid or what?"

"Mind your own business," Ellison growled.

God, the guy's voice was wonderful. Smooth as silk, even when angry. He stood up as much as his short stature would allow and poked a finger into Ellison's chest. "Move it before we have visitors."

After a pause, Ellison finally nodded. He led the way, with Ellison following. Looking over his shoulder, he asked, "Lost your dog?"

"What?" Ellison asked, his clear blue eyes puzzled.

"You look like you've lost your best friend."

"And my best friend is a dog?" Ellison growled.

"What? You don't like dogs?" he asked innocently, holding out his hands.

Ellison sized him up for a moment before he let out a snort. "I like dogs just fine."

"It's people who suck."

"What?"

"Just finishing the thought."

Ellison shrugged and jammed his hands into his pockets.

He smiled. "You hungry?"

Shrugging again, Ellison stayed silent.

"Come on." He started walking down the street, not looking back. Either Ellison came or he didn't. The guy had a rough morning, and even though he still wanted Ellison's body, he thought the soldier needed a bit of time to process. He wanted a willing lover who'd enjoy himself. And besides, he still had time left on his self-imposed deadline, and he wasn't opposed to wining and dining. When he heard the footsteps following him, he grinned. "Hurry up. I didn't have breakfast yet."

Ellison's long legs brought him forward and in a few steps, they were side by side. He led the soldier to his apartment, a nice walk-up down a side street that was clean and well-kept. He unlocked the door and waved his newfound friend inside, where he plied the man with food and non-alcoholic drink. Ellison would have to be totally coherent and willing. He didn't want the man any other way.

After breakfast, they sat on the veranda, talking about nothing in particular. He avoided asking personal questions, and Ellison avoided almost all subjects that were remotely personal. He did seem to like basketball and hot cars. It was fine with him.

They played a few hands of cards and as the day grew warmer, he used it as an excuse to take off his jacket, then his shoes and socks. Ellison removed his uniform jacket and his dress shirt, revealing a toned body covered with a thin white muscle-type undershirt. The man was beautiful. After lunch, Ellison finally started to relax and removed his shoes and socks.

"Do you want something more comfortable to lounge in?"

"Like...?"

"Sweat pants. Shorts. Whatever." He smiled and moved toward his bedroom. "I'm going to get out of these pants." He entered the room, smiling to himself. "Want to go swimming?"

"Don't have a suit."

"There's a little beach a couple of blocks over. It's private. We can skinny-dip." Ellison didn't respond to his invitation, so he called out, "Unless you're embarrassed."

"Not hardly. Military, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," he answered, moving to stand in the doorway, naked as the day he was born. "I forgot. You guys are used to sharing."

Ellison's gaze met his. He could see the spark of interest in the blue eyes, but he didn't want to scare the guy off. He seemed strong, yet somehow, very vulnerable.

"Yeah, we share," Ellison snapped angrily.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked quietly.

"No. Forget it."

"Sure, man. Say, what's your first name?"

"Jim."

"Okay, Jim. Nice. Short but sweet. I'm Blair."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too." He chewed on his lower lip before he finally asked, "Are you okay?" Ellison shrugged. "If you like, there are ways to -- forget. At least for a while."

"Oh?" Jim looked intently into his face before he shook his head. "I don't do narcotics," he added.

"No! Naturally. Give me a break. You seem like you've had a rough patch, and I'm willing to do what I can to help. I want to be your friend."

"I've heard that before."

He moved across the room, forgetting his undressed condition momentarily. "I won't hurt you."

"That's what they all say," Jim said derisively.

"Trust me. Just once. Then, afterward, if you want to, you just leave and never look back. I won't bother you again." Jim looked stricken for a moment, then he finally nodded. "Give me your hand." Slowly, Jim put his hand out. "Have you ever...?" he asked, a smile crossing his face as he inclined his head toward the bedroom.

"With a guy?" Jim asked.

"Yeah."

"No. Only women. But they always..."

"They've hurt you. I won't hurt you. I swear."

With a smile, he led Jim toward the bedroom. Gesturing to the bed, he said, "Lie down. I'll be right back." He forced himself to leave the room, giving Jim a final opportunity to walk out of the house. He waited at the far end of the apartment for five full minutes, listening carefully. He was very pleased when he didn't hear the apartment door open, then close. He knew Jim was staying. He hurried back, dropping his handful of items on the bedside table.

"Man, you are beautiful!" he said, not hiding the awe he felt at having such a delicious creature in his bed. He smiled when he saw Jim blush. "What? Not used to compliments?" Ellison shook his head. He climbed onto the bed and reverently brushed a hand over the firm planes of Jim's chest, resting a palm over a nipple. "You are the most gorgeous man I've ever seen." When Jim started to protest, he leaned close, their mouths barely an inch apart and whispered, "Let me love you."

Jim nodded, closing his eyes.

"Relax. I'll do all the work," he crooned, touching their lips together. The kiss was sweet; sweeter than he'd imagined. Jim's lips were soft velvet and tasted of orange juice. He didn't rush, drawing out their first kiss until he felt Jim wiggle a bit under him. He smiled into the kiss and moved back barely a fraction of an inch before he swiped his tongue across Jim's mouth. Jim moaned, his lips opening. He accepted the invitation, covering Jim's open mouth with his, letting his tongue plunder the depths. Not letting up, knowing Jim was a man, and needed a man's loving, he controlled the kiss until Jim's hands circled his shoulders.

Releasing Jim's mouth, he moved downward, his lips worshiping the skin of Jim's chin and neck, nibbling at the collarbone before moving downward to the already-peaked nipples. He sucked each one in turn, his new lover's cries of pleasure music to his ears.

"Has no one ever sucked them before?" he asked.

Jim vehemently shook his head.

"Fools," he responded, returning to his task. He worried the nipples until he felt Jim shudder under him. He was surprised to see the man's cock releasing its bounty without a single touch. He smiled with pleasure even as Jim stuttered his apologies, clearly embarrassed at his lack of control. "Nonsense," he chided. "It is a compliment to my lovemaking." He smiled as he wiped the semen from Jim's belly with a clean washcloth. "Look at me," he ordered quietly. When Jim's eyes met his, he touched a drop of semen he had missed and brought the finger to his own nipple. With Jim watching, wide eyed, he smiled. "Your semen marks me. Your scent is on me." Jim looked dazed. "Again, no one has ever done this for you?"

"No," Jim managed to whisper.

He grinned. "I have a lot more," and he laughed aloud when Jim groaned.

"I might not live through it," Jim said teasingly.

He grinned, pleased to see Jim's humor emerging. That was a good sign. "Do you trust me?" he asked, his fingers brushing the soft skin between Jim's thighs. He was gratified when the thighs parted immediately.

"Yes."

"Good," he said happily, moving between the out-spread legs. "I will make you feel so good!" At Jim's nod, he continued. With lubed fingers, he gently pressed inside. With his gaze latched onto Jim's, he moved the fingers as his willing lover experienced penetration for the first time.

Jim's eyes were wide with the initial breach but they soon closed tightly when he found and massaged his lover's prostate. Jim shuddered, his hands clenching the sheets tightly, and he raised his legs to put his feet flat on the bed, knees bent, spreading his legs even wider. He almost sobbed aloud seeing Jim's surrender. He knew then that this fine, vulnerable man needed him. Needed a considerate, caring lover to take him to heights he'd never dreamed. Someone who wouldn't abandon him; wouldn't betray him, ever. Jim finally cried aloud, and placed his hands behind his knees, drawing his hips up and opening his virgin body even more.

He moved carefully, replacing his fingers with his well-lubed cock. He pushed inside observing Jim's reactions. All of this was for his sweet man's pleasure, and it was only pleasure that Jim would be allowed to feel.

Opening his eyes, Jim cried aloud, "Yes! Oh, God!"

He was deeply embedded, his pelvic bone pressed against Jim's cock, which had reacted to the stimulation of the prostate by reviving to semi-hardness. He smiled and rolled his hips, pushing against Jim's body. He leaned down, resting on one hand, and used the other to capture Jim's chin. He found the willing mouth and kissed him hard, his tongue simulating what he could soon be doing to his lover's body. Jim whimpered, his cock filling more.

He continued his ardent kisses, letting Jim grow used to being filled with his hardness. Soon, his sensitive lover was thrashing under him. The moans were continual, and Jim's hands scrabbled down his back, grabbing his buttocks. He waited even longer until he knew his lover was almost overwhelmed with the need to be taken. Finally, when he released the swollen mouth, Jim let out a wail. Then he knew that his lover was ready.

He pumped into the strong body, mindful of the fact that this was his virgin lover's first time with a man. He let Jim's arousal grow even higher with each stroke. He adjusted his position so that his hands were pressing down on Jim's legs until the knees were tight against his chest. Angling his cock, he jabbed Jim's prostate, making his passionate lover cry out with each thrust.

Jim's face was wonderful! His eyes were tightly shut, sweat dripped down his skin in rivulets, his mouth was open and he panted hard. His lover was indeed beautiful. He drew out his orgasm until it was physically impossible to wait any longer. With two powerful thrusts, he spilled his seed deep into his lover's body, crying out Jim's name with each pulse until he was empty. Jim panted harshly, his hips still thrusting long after he'd been milked dry. He gently pulled out and fell onto Jim's cock, sucking and stroking simultaneously until Jim screamed and arched his back, come shooting into the back of his throat. Jim finally collapsed, senseless, onto the sweat-stained bedclothes...

Blair woke to another cold, rainy day. He rolled out of bed and thought about his latest dream. If only he was the older man. Maybe Jim would look up to him, and let him be the teacher in all things. He thought about what had brought on the unusual dream. It all stemmed from Jim's betrayal by Veronica. His partner had loved her, Blair knew. And Veronica got what she deserved as far as he was concerned. Jim had told him how she had two-timed him with Archer, but otherwise, he didn't elaborate, which was no big surprise to Blair. He was pleased that Jim had told him even the sketchy detail of her behavior. Blair hated the woman on sight, but even though he tried to warn Jim about her, his friend had reacted badly. Sure, he'd apologized after a fashion for his anger, but Blair was sure Jim still thought that if he had done something differently or been something else, something better, that Veronica would have loved him best.

He just wished Jim would realize that he loved Jim best. And always would.

\---------------------------------------------

Chapter Sixty-Two

Blair lit the candles that he'd arranged in a neat half circle on the coffee table. Before he lit the incense he had waiting, he picked up the hunk of niktabi root and put it under his tongue. Making a face at the bitter taste, he put the lighter to the incense, and after wiggling his backside until he was comfortably situated on the sofa cushion, he closed his eyes and rested his hands on his knees. If Jim could see a ghost in the waiting room because of the root, then he wanted to give it a try for himself. It just might help with the visions and dreams he'd had for three years now. He needed clarity and certainty, and he was willing to try anything.

Blair cleared his mind of everything but thoughts of Jim. When he first met him, scared and tense in the hospital examination room. Jim, strapping on a parachute and leaping from an airplane. Jim in a high speed chase, throwing his arm across his chest even though he had his seatbelt on. Jim rushing down those steps into Lash's hideout. Jim standing before an old mirror in an abandoned house, talking to a ghost...

Blue colored his vision, clouding everything into a swirling blue haze. He rushed through the whirling mist that lapped at his face. He had to escape! He raced onward, hearing the snap of a twig off to his right. He didn't have time to glance to the side before the arrow hit him in the side. He fell to the ground with a whimper, and as he watched himself, he saw the wolf slowly morph into his human self. His hair tumbled down onto the ground. He could clearly see the blue/green leaves and twigs that stuck in the strands. And he could clearly see the blue/black shaft of the arrow where it jutted from his body.

He watched the hunter who burst from the edge of the forest and stood before the wolf as he changed. He looked into the hunter's face and recognized him. It was his friend, his partner, his mentor, the man he loved -- Jim.

Jim threw the bow and arrow aside and rushed to his side. He felt his life force leave him even as he stood watching it happening. This wasn't possible! How could he see this and yet be part of it? How could Jim kill him? Didn't Jim know that he loved him?

Strong hands touched his face, pushing away the loose strands of hair. Jim's voice cracked as he said, "Blair! What have I done!"

He struggled to speak as his strength ebbed away. "I... will... always... love..." His eyes closed...

"Blair! Come on, buddy." Blair's eyes opened. He blinked dazedly. "Thank God!" Jim said tightly. "What the hell were you doing?" he demanded.

Blair let out a soft sigh. Jim's arms around him tightened, his hand reached up to stroke his forehead. "Meditating."

"Meditating, Chief? Don't lie to me. There's no way you'd be hallucinating like that if you were meditating!" Jim's tone was fraught with worry and anger.

"I... Hallucinating? Sorry."

"I smell something... It was that damned mumbo jumbo crap, wasn't it?" Jim demanded, not releasing Blair from his arms.

Blair decided being held by Jim felt very good, so he relaxed into the embrace. He didn't remember being held by Jim after he'd collapsed from Golden. Simon had told him what Jim had done and how he'd held him until the ambulance attendants took him away. Blair had been surprised and pleased to hear about Jim's actions, but he didn't remember a thing. Now, being held in the strong arms felt so good! Jim's own smell was sweet to him, and he turned his face to press his nose into his partner's chest. For a bit of emphasis, he gave a small moan.

"Are you sick?" Jim asked, his hand stroking Blair's hair. Rather than speak, he nodded. "Come on. Let's get you into bed. You need to lie down." Again, he nodded. He was sorry that Jim released him, but he liked the way Jim put one arm under his armpit and the other around his shoulders and helped him to his feet. But instead of releasing him, Jim guided him into his bedroom and kept a firm grip on his waist while he tossed back the blankets.

Once Blair was in the bed, Jim removed his shoes and socks and took off his jeans. He gave a wan smile. "Thanks."

"Sure, Sandburg. Can I get you something? Why did you take the drug?"

"Jim, man, it isn't a drug. It's a root. It's all natural."

"Marijuana is a plant. It's all natural also. That doesn't mean it's not a narcotic."

Blair decided to come clean. "I wanted to see if I could see what you saw. Molly and all... I wanted to experience it. Learn from it."

"Sandburg," Jim said warningly.

"I was curious! What you did was so cool! Besides..." He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Promise me no more experiments with anything! Promise." Jim waggled a finger into his face.

"Okay."

"What were you talking about? Something about -- me and a bow and arrow. You sounded as if you were in pain. Did I hurt you?"

"I don't remember," he blurted out. "I think I'll sleep for a while. My head hurts."

Jim stared down at him for a moment before he nodded. "You promise?"

"Yes." Blair gave his partner a firm nod. "I won't do it again."

"Good." Jim ruffled his hair and left, turning off the light on his way out. "Call me if you need anything."

"I will." Blair turned to his side and sighed. I need something, and it's not something I can ask you for. I need you, Jim. Nothing much. Just you.

\-------------------------

Chapter Sixty-Three

"It was really cool meeting Vince Deal! He gave me an autographed script of his new TV movie." Blair held up the manuscript. "Braddock Returns! Is that super or what?"

Jim smiled. "It will be great."

"Can I come down to the set when you shoot? I've never seen a film being made. Maybe I can work in a paper or something. It will be a great experience."

"Chief, do you think you could stop bouncing on the furniture? You're moving the sofa, and it's going to scratch the floor if you keep sliding it back and forth."

"Sorry," Blair said with a grin, leaping up only to sit back down.

Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You're not going to be able to sleep tonight, are you?"

Blair grinned. "Nope."

"You're worse than a kid at Christmas. I don't know about you, but I'm heading up. Good night, Chief."

"Night, Jim!"

Blair watched Jim climb the stairs before he found the remote control under a pile of magazines and hit the 'on' button. He channel surfed until he found the nostalgia channel that played old movies all the time. He grinned when images of Bogie and Bacall appeared on the screen.

"Now this is the real deal," he said softly. "Vince is great, but this is a true classic."

Blair put a couple of pillows behind his head and lay down on the sofa to watch "Casablanca". The long day caught up with him, and about halfway through, he drifted to sleep...

"I hear you're a dick," the man's voice said.

He raised his head up from his desk where he'd been reading this morning's newspaper, hot from the presses. "That's right. I'm the best there is." He smiled, giving the guy the once-over. He was a tall, cool drink of water. Light brown hair, combed neatly. Clean-shaven. He sniffed, enjoying the inviting smell of Aqua Velva. Intelligent eyes. They looked at you without any deception. Nice suit. The dark grey with the white pin stripes accentuated what looked like a toned body.

But the man was anxious. He had taken off his fedora, and now he turned it around and around by the brim.

"What can I do for you?" he prompted, waving a hand toward the chair. He wished it wasn't quite so muggy in here, but the metal fan that whirred behind him barely broke the air. "Drink?" he offered, waving a hand toward the bookshelf where a couple of bottles of booze rested.

"No, thanks. I need your help."

"That's why I'm here," he said, leaning back in the chair. The leather creaked pleasantly. "You in some sort of trouble?" He fingered his watch chain while he watched the man's struggle to speak.

"Yes. No. I'm not sure."

He smiled encouragingly. He hadn't had a paying gig in a few weeks. Some hard cash would be nice. What else would be nice would be a piece of this, he added to himself. Giving another grin, he asked, "What can I do for you?"

"I've heard that you know something about -- my condition."

"What's your name?"

"Oh! Excuse me!" The man rose and held out a hand. "Ellison. Jim Ellison."

He rose also. "Blair Sandburg. You can call me Blair."

"Sure. Thanks."

"Sit and tell me what's going on."

"First... Not to be rude, but what's your fee? I'm..." Ellison glanced away, clearly uncomfortable.

"Short on cash?" He grimaced inwardly, but another look at that body and his lips talked before his brain. "I'll run you a tab."

"Thank you, Mr. Sand-"

"Blair."

Ellison smiled. It was a wondrous thing. The earth sighed happily and so did he. "Blair."

Well, damn. The way the guy said his name did funny things to his innards. He felt a hot flash that started at his toes, rushed to his head, then back down to settle comfortably... Make that uncomfortably in his cock. He shifted, happy for the desk that hid his lower body. "So... You were saying?"

"I'm -- divorcing Mrs. Ellison. Carolyn. But she wants a huge settlement, or she's threatened to have me committed to Conover-"

"The nut house?" he asked, shocked. The guy looked so -- normal!

"Yes. I've been having -- symptoms..."

"Symptoms?" he asked, surprised.

Ellison looked uncomfortable. "Symptoms of mental illness. Heightened senses to be precise."

His eyes widened. It had been years since he'd even thought about heightened senses. Hell, he had to dump the whole university routine when his research went to hell in a hand basket after he discovered he was as crazy as the people he was researching. Heightened senses are a symptom of mental illness, but for years, he'd been convinced that they could also be attributed to a long-forgotten fairy tale of Sentinels -- people with a genetic advantage that manifests itself in a sensory awareness that could be developed beyond the scope of normal humans -- or drive a fellow plain downright wacky.

"Have you been in any sort of solitary confinement lately?" he asked sharply.

"Yes. How do you know?"

"Answer the question, please."

"I was -- held by -- unknown parties. It was a business matter."

"Excuse me? Unknown parties? A business matter? If you expect me to help you, you'd better spit it out!" he demanded, sitting up and resting his elbows on the desk. "I need to have details if you expect me to help you."

Ellison looked even more uncomfortable. If he was a betting man, and he was, he'd bet dollars to doughnuts that the guy was always this touchy about his personal life. "I was kidnapped. My family had to pay a quarter of a million dollars for my return. I was kept in a -- dungeon of sorts. Didn't see anyone for five, six days."

"That's not very cool. I didn't read anything in the rag or hear about it on the radio." He shook his head in disbelief.

Jim leaned forward. "My father kept it out of the papers, but something happened to me while I was gone. I -- felt strange. Heard things, smelled things that I couldn't possibly hear or smell..." Jim shrugged.

"You're not nutso, Jim. You're what's called a Sentinel. You have a gift."

"A gift? This is a curse! I want it to go away!"

"Why come to me? I'm not a doc. I'm a private dick; a PI."

"There's more. I think my soon-to-be ex-wife had something to do with my abduction."

He leaned back and after intently examining Jim's face, he nodded. "Now that I can help with. Digging out extortion is my game. Tell you what. I'll toss in my old Sentinel research and take care of the dame for a cool hundred."

"It's a deal." Ellison rose, as did he, and they shook.

As Ellison turned to leave, he said, "I'll give you a jingle when I have news."

"Thank you."

He watched the handsome man leave and with a grin, he said to the empty room, "Now that's one guy I'm going to enjoy teaching the finer aspects of personal gratification."

\----------------------------------

Turned out, the ex was just like any other dame. Already had another man on the line, waiting in the dugout. But the new guy didn't have a penny to his name, even if he was pretty suave. She was making time with the tennis pro from that hoity-toity country club that the Ellisons belonged to. Turned out, after he greased a few wheels, that the bitch had been playing footsie with the guy for a while now, and together they hatched the idea to snatch Ellison and rake in a few quick bucks. She wasn't getting anything from the family since she signed a contract before they were hitched that if she strayed from the marriage bed, she got the boot and a small allowance as long as she was single. She wanted to shack up with her tennis pro, but she wanted a bigger share of the clams... like all of it. Hell, she might have gotten away with it if the dame hadn't gone to the ritziest jewelry store in town and blew a wad on gems. Dames were so predictable.

He called in a favor. A friend who was a Fed worked the money angle. Together, they traced the cash back to Ellison's bank, and nabbed the ex and the boyfriend. They brought them in, and sweated the boyfriend, who folded in two hours like a wet paper bag in a rainstorm and gave up the Mrs. to save his own ass.

Ellison was grateful when he heard the news.

"She's really under arrest?"

"Yes, sir," he said with a grin. "Shipped off to Sing-Sing."

"Thank you. If there's ever anything I can do, just name it."

"You can let me study those senses."

"I'd be happy to. Anything else?" Ellison asked, his eyes taking on a much happier glint now that he was free of the ole ball and chain.

With a lecherous grin, he walked over to Ellison and ran a finger down the center of his chest. "Now that you mention it..."

"Sandburg!"

Blair jerked awake and sat up quickly. "What? Are you okay?" he called out.

Jim's voice drifted down from his room. "Will you please quit laughing in your sleep? It's really -- damned weird!"

"Sorry!"

"Sorry ain't going to cut it tonight, Chief. I have court in the morning!"

"I'll be quiet! I promise."

Blair heard Jim's derisive, "Yeah. Right!" before silence once again reigned in the loft. Blair rolled over and grinned into the darkness. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd fall back to sleep soon and finish that dream.

\----------------------

Chapter Sixty-Four

Blair lay on his bed, thinking about Harry Conkle. He'd actually liked the guy, in spite of the fact that he was one of the most wanted felons listed on the FBI's list. But the guy was nice! Blair snickered. He ended up being the nicest criminal Blair had ever known, hands down. And his daughter, Lindsay, was a sweet lady. What a strange case. He was happy the outcome ended up working out for Lindsay and Harry, and also for Tyler.

Rolling over, Blair smiled when he thought about how cute Jim looked holding the baby. Jim had cooed at Tyler, making the baby laugh aloud. Blair was tickled to see Jim's face losing its stoicism, and as he played with the baby, he looked ten years younger. They'd never talked about kids, and whether or not either of them planned on having any, so in the truck on the way home from the hospital, he'd asked Jim if he wanted kids. His partner's sideways glance clearly said, Are you nuts?

"Why not?" he prodded. Jim looked at him again, raising an eyebrow. "I know you're a cop," he said with a sigh of exasperation. "But lots of cops have kids."

Blair rolled his eyes when Jim let out his own exasperated sigh and shook his head, clearly intent on not entering the conversation.

Blair continued doggedly. "Not having a wife or girlfriend doesn't mean you don't want have a kid. There's adoption and fostering. All sorts of ways to be a parent."

Jim glanced over, his mouth curving into a small smile.

Blair could see that maybe his friend was at least considering the general idea. "Yeah, I know. It's a lot of work, but it can be fun too." He was thoughtful for a moment before he asked, "Doesn't it freak you out that we had that entire conversation without you saying anything? I mean, come on, man. That's plain weird. We know each other way too well."

Jim grinned this time and shook his head, giving a small chuckle.

Blair laughed. "You love me for my body, I know." He returned Jim's grin, keeping his comment light-hearted, but he intently watched his partner's reaction. Jim pulled up to a red light and while they waited, he turned his head and studied Blair intently from the top of his head to his feet. Blair felt a flush of warmth as his friend checked him out as only the Sentinel in Jim could do. Then the bastard had the audacity to run his tongue over his lips.

Blair tried to hide his arousal, sure that Jim would smell the pheromones that wafted off him as his partner's blatant appraisal heated up his insides. But when the light changed, he turned away, a secretive smile playing on his lips. Blair immediately shut up, thinking about what the hell had just happened.

And now, three hours later, he was still thinking about it. Either Jim was interested in him, or Jim was teasing the hell out of him, leading him along so that he could play some sort of a practical joke on him. Oh, he could see it now. He'd throw himself at Jim's feet, claiming undying love, and while he was groveling on the floor, Simon and the rest of the guys would be hiding on the balcony or in the bathroom, coming out to laugh themselves silly over his stupidity and naïveté.

Blair winced as he considered his embarrassment. He would sink into the floor and die. Jim seemed to get some perverse joy from bugging the shit out of him. Just what he needed these days, he thought with a sigh. He was so in love with Jim, it wasn't funny. He just didn't know what to do about it and being the object of his buddy's teasing was something he didn't need right now.

Tired of even thinking about all of this crap, he turned to his side and closed his eyes, forcing himself to recite all of the pharaohs of Egypt until he finally fell asleep...

He slowly walked down the steps leading from Jim's bedroom, and as he walked to the bathroom, he wondered why in the hell he felt so tired. He also wondered why he had been sleeping in Jim's bedroom. Before he could examine the reason more closely, he realized that his stomach ached and his head pounded. He felt his guts churn, and he knew he was going to be sick. He raced to the bathroom and threw himself down on his knees, vomiting into the bowl.

When he finally felt that he wasn't going to be sick again, he rose and turned on the taps, running cold water into his hands. He leaned over, tossing handfuls of water onto his face. Feeling a bit better, he stood up and looked into the mirror.

"What the fuck?" he cried out. He stared, his mouth open. The face that looked back at him was his, but not his. He looked like -- a woman? "Shit!" A knock on the door barely registered to his shocked brain.

"Honey, are you okay?"

He vaguely heard the voice. It sure sounded like Jim, but right now, he was too surprised to think straight. Who the hell was he looking at? "Go away!"

"Blair, sweetheart. What's wrong? Another bout of morning sickness? Can I get you some crackers?"

Morning sickness? He glanced down and screamed. His stomach! It was -- a lump! Something was under his shirt. He yanked up the t-shirt and looked again. The skin was creamy and smooth -- and bulging. He was pregnant? He was pregnant! He screamed again, ignoring the pounding on the door. Shocked, he sank to the floor and sat dazedly, one hand splayed over his stomach and the other pressed over his mouth. He couldn't stop the long, low whimper that emerged from his throat.

The pounding on the door stopped and suddenly, the entire door flew open, pieces of wood flying everywhere. He ducked and managed to glance under his arm, seeing Jim striding into the small room. Jim looked horrified when he looked up from his place on the floor.

"What's wrong?" Jim demanded, falling to his knees. His hands reached out and gently touched his face. "Is it the baby? Should I call the doctor?"

"I'm pregnant," he whispered.

"Honey, please, you're scaring me."

"Honey?"

"Blair, sweetheart-"

"Sweetheart? But I'm a man!"

Jim's eyes grew wide and his mouth opened in surprise, only to be quickly replaced by a look of total terror. "What's wrong? Are you having contractions?"

"What's wrong?" he shouted, pushing off Jim's hand and getting to his feet. "I'll tell you what's wrong! I'm a fucking guy! A man. M.A.N. Look! I have a dick!" he yanked down his pants, pointing toward his crotch. "Look!"

Jim's eyes were wide as they went from his face to his crotch. After a moment's pause, Jim's gaze moved upward until it found his, and he shook his head, his eyes tearing. "My love," Jim whispered, reaching for him, the fright in his eyes clearly showing. "It will be okay. Maybe you're having that stuff... Postpartum depression?

"What?" he cried. "Post...? Are you nuts?" Then he looked down and saw... It was gone! His penis was gone! He screamed...

Strong hands clamped on his arms and he was shaken none too gently.

"Sandburg!"

His eyes flew open, and he jumped back. "Jim?" A glance told him he was standing in the bathroom, and Jim was standing directly in front of him.

"Just take it easy!" Jim said firmly, stepping back. "Are you going to swing at me again?"

"Where is it?"

"What?"

"My cock!"

Jim's eyebrows rose. "Your what?"

"My penis, dickhead!"

"Excuse me?"

Blair saw Jim's puzzlement. Again, he looked around, catching his reflection in the mirror. He saw -- himself. "Thank God," he muttered, pulling the elastic waistband of his jogging pants away from his body. He reached in and felt... "Thank you!" he whispered, eyes flicking heavenward.

"Chief, what the fuck is going on?"

Blair waved a hand. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Jim said irritatedly. "I don't call sleepwalking 'nothing'. And I don't call screaming and getting hysterical in the middle of the night 'nothing'. And I don't think taking a swing at me is nothing!"

Blair paled. "Really... It was just a bad dream."

Jim pointed a finger, waving it in his face. "I don't know what's up with you lately, Sandburg, but whatever it is, you need to fix it."

"Or what?" Blair asked softly, sensing the unspoken threat. "You want me to leave?"

Jim's gaze studied him for a long minute before he finally shook his head. "No, I don't. I'm just -- worried."

Blair sighed with relief. "I'm fine."

"You'd tell me if something was wrong?"

Blair hesitated for a second before he admitted, "Yeah. I would."

Jim gave him a small smile. "Good. Now how about we get some sleep?"

"Sure, man. You go on. I'll..." he waved a hand. "...make some tea or something."

Jim again examined him intently before he finally put out a hand and touched Blair's arm. "If there's anything I can do, you let me know."

Blair smiled. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Good night, Blair."

Blair had to smile. His partner rarely used his name, and when he did, it was usually for some good reason: to comfort, for emphasis or to tease. This was definitely one of those times for reassurance. "Thank you. Good night."

Jim ruffled his hair before he left, leaving Blair to ponder once again the weirdness that he laughingly called, "My Dream World, Starring Jim Ellison".

\------------------------

Chapter Sixty-Five

Blair's gaze was intently focused on the gold shield he held in his hand. He turned the black billfold over and over, opening and closing it several times before he took the shield out from under its protective covering. He held it in his hand, curling his fingers over it, feeling the weight of it in his hand and the touch of it against his skin.

In the five days since that day in the bullpen when Jim had returned it to his hand after Simon had snatched it back with an admonishment about having to go to the police academy and complete firearms training, all he'd done was think about Jim, and the badge, and what he should do about this life-altering decision.

He opened his hand and stared at the piece of metal that could mean so much to him. He wished it could talk; give him a few pointers about what he should do. Could he change his life this drastically? Did he want to? With a sigh, he dropped his head back onto the sofa.

Naomi had left, off on another soul-searching journey. Blair snickered softly. She was probably prostrate somewhere right this minute, praying and begging to the gods to spare her own child from the clutches of Jim Ellison and all that he represented. Blair shook his head. He'd seen her off at the airport, where she once again begged his forgiveness. He'd once again waved off her apology, kissing her cheek and reiterating his words of love. She'd gone off with a tear in her eye and frankly, he was relieved. Now maybe he and Jim could get to the hard part. Decisions had to be made and made soon.

Blair groaned softly. What should he do? His book was a bust. With a derisive laugh, he knew not only his book, but his entire academic life was definitely a thing of the past. Yet when he thought back on what he had done -- the press conference and all that he had said -- he knew without a doubt that he had done the right thing.

Then there was Jim. These last few days had been very -- telling. Jim had definitely changed. Blair saw the effort his friend made to be more considerate. Jim asked his opinion on several things relating to some family business that had come up regarding his father and brother. Blair had been surprised that Jim had even thought to include him, but his roommate made it clear that Blair was "part of the family." Those had been Jim's exact words.

Furthermore, Jim offered to help him fill out the paperwork regarding the academy and had volunteered a letter of reference. But Jim also made it very clear that the decision was his and his alone. His partner adamantly refused to pressure him in any way, but he could tell that Jim would be extraordinarily happy if Blair decided to attend. Even when he'd suggested that he might not be accepted, Jim waved off the idea with a hint that Simon and the commissioner had made noises about clearing the way for him. That was another surprise that had occurred. Jim had already spoken to whomever he thought would make his path into the police department smoother.

Jim cared, he realized, and it made him feel so damned good that he thought he'd cry. Jim cared. And he loved Jim, so he made his decision. As soon as his friend came home, he'd tell him. Blair rose and with a light heart, started dinner. Jim's physical therapy would be finished soon, and since he'd just started the regime four days ago, he'd come home after both sessions sore and grumpy. But after a nice, hot shower to loosen up the tight muscles, Jim would be ravenous. Nothing like a home-cooked meal to make a guy feel better.

Blair was halfway through preparing a dinner of chicken stew with biscuits when the center of his life arrived.

"Smells great," Jim said as he hung his jacket on the hook. "Man, I'm beat."

Blair smiled. "Go and take a shower. I laid out your sweats and two clean towels."

Jim paused. Blair could practically hear the gears in his head moving as he considered his words. With a smile, he nodded. "Thanks, Chief. I won't be long."

"Dinner in thirty minutes, so take your time."

With another nod and a quick glance that Blair couldn't decipher, Jim limped by and disappeared. He reappeared twenty-five minutes later just as Blair was dishing up the stew. He put a plate with a fresh stick of butter on the table, along with the two bowls of stew. "Hot biscuits," he said unnecessarily as he added a towel-covered basket. "Beer?" Jim smiled as he walked over to the table, favoring his hurt knee. "Sit down. How's the knee?"

Jim shrugged. "Hurts, but it's not too bad. No beer. Water, please."

"Sure, man. Dig in."

Blair brought two glasses of water over, sitting down. They dug into the meal and ate quietly, enjoying the food and the company. Afterward, at Blair's insistence, Jim relaxed while he cleaned up. They then sat on the sofa with their feet propped up on the coffee table. Blair fixed an ice pack for Jim's knee, which Jim took with a word of thanks. They settled in. Blair began to read when Jim reached for the remote, but instead, he picked up the billfold holding the shield that Blair had been studying earlier and had left on the coffee table. Jim didn't say anything, but held the leather case in his hand.

Blair watched Jim for a moment before he quietly said, "I've decided."

Jim nodded. "Okay."

Blair had to smile. His friend looked like he was steeling himself for bad news. "I'll tell you my decision in a moment, but first, there's something I need to tell you that might change the entire outcome."

Jim leaned back, moving both of his feet on the floor. He laid the ice pack on the coffee table before he turned and put an arm along the back of the sofa, giving Blair his full attention.

Blair sighed, a little unsure exactly how to start the conversation, but when he looked into Jim's eyes, he knew that no matter how this ended, they'd always be friends at the very least. He gave Jim a tentative smile and turned, tucking a leg under him.

"I want to be completely up front and honest with you. I know how you feel about having a partner you can trust, and I feel the same way."

"Chief-"

"No," Blair interrupted when he saw that Jim was more than likely going to again apologize for his words that night in the bullpen after he'd discovered Blair had found another Sentinel. "It's not an accusation; it's an understanding. And it's important." At Jim's nod to go on, Blair licked his lips. "I wanted you to know exactly how I feel, and how my feelings might affect my decision. And how your knowing about it might change what you think also." Jim fidgeted, so Blair huffed out a shaky breath before he blurted out, "I'm in love with you, and I have been for..." He cleared his throat and forced himself to speak with conviction. "Actually, since the day I met you. I want to be your partner. Both here and on the force."

Blair paused, looking into Jim's eyes. He searched for some sign, anything that would tell him whether he was making a fool of himself and should shut up. He was incredibly relieved when Jim seemed interested, not offended, in what he was saying. Encouraged, he continued, "I don't think it's fair not telling you because it does affect how I feel about you. It's not something you have to worry about. I can do my job and be your partner and friend without ever expecting anything else from you." He stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts before he added, "I like being here with you, and I hope you'll ask me to stay on whatever terms you think will work best for you."

Blair stopped speaking and looking down, plucked a loose thread from his sweats. He was almost afraid to look at Jim, but finally, he screwed up his courage and glanced up. Jim looked -- pleased.

"Jim?"

"That's... okay."

"Okay?"

"How you feel about me. I like having you here, and I think we work well together. I don't see a problem."

"Good," he said, nodding. Blair pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. Jim didn't offer any more explanation, but he didn't pitch a fit over Blair's admission either. He smiled, relieved. "Then I'll get the paperwork moving. And get this hair cut."

Jim's gaze searched his face and after a moment, he nodded. "Okay. I think this will work."

Jim's easy acceptance of Blair's admission felt almost anti-climactic. He had been expecting -- something more, but now that Jim had said all was well, he felt a little let down for some reason. But his friend had agreed that things could work for them, so he was appreciative for that. And right now, he also felt thankful that he had some goal to work for. He was going to be a cop.

Jim picked up the remote and turned on the television, settling back. Blair made himself comfortable at his end of the sofa, and they spent the rest of the evening in easy companionship until they parted for bed several hours later...

At the soft knock on his door, he called, "Come in." Jim entered and paused for a moment in the doorway until he asked, "What's up?"

"I... thought a lot about what you said... about how you're in love with me." Jim shifted from one foot to the other. "And about being honest and up-front with each other."

He had to hide a smile at a tentative Jim. "Sit down," he said softly, patting the mattress.

Jim gave a curt nod and sat gingerly on the very edge of the bed. "I agree."

When Jim didn't continue, he asked, "With...?"

"I want to be completely honest with you also. It's important. I've been lying in bed, thinking about this." Jim gave a small snort and shook his head. "That's true, but it's not the first time I've lain awake thinking about you. Listening to you... you know." Jim made a hand-motion.

"Jerk off?" he supplied, making Jim roll his eyes.

"Yeah."

"Did it disgust you?"

"No! No, actually... I liked it. I could smell you."

He blushed. "Yeah, right. I forgot about that."

Jim grinned, looking pleased with himself. "You do that sometimes. Forget about the senses. I like that; makes me feel more -- normal."

Laughing, he said, "Guess I do sometimes. Still... it's pretty damned cool. And Jim, you are normal."

"You'll always be enamored with the damned things, won't you?"

"Yes, I will," he admitted. "Always. So... What's going on?"

"Might as well say it right out."

"Might as well."

"I'm in love with you also."

He sat up. "What?" he whispered, his heart starting to pound in his chest. "What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"Why?"

"Why? Geez, Chief," Jim said, running a hand across his short hair, "corner a guy, why don't you?" Jim paused momentarily before he continued. "I laid in bed tonight and thought about you and me. How you've helped me through all of this Sentinel stuff. What it's been like for the past few years with you here, with me. How we've been with each other. Good and bad, and everything in between, yet we're still here." Jim paused, looking pained when he added, "What it would be like if I hadn't met you. And worse, what it would be like if you left."

"I'm not going to leave," he said quietly.

"I know. But still, you deserve more than a room under my stairs. You're smart, and brave, and pretty darned adorable."

"I am?" he asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Yeah," Jim admitted, grinning. His partner reached out a hand and brushed the side of his face. "At least I think so."

"You're pretty darned cute yourself," he said with a chuckle. "Say it again."

"What?"

He loved the way Jim's eyes twinkled, and the way they looked into his, interested and loving.

"Tell me you love me."

Jim's gaze met his, and he said confidently, "I love you, Blair Sandburg."

"I love you," he replied, scrambling to his knees and throwing his arms around Jim's neck.

Jim slipped his arms around his shoulders. "Have for a while, but didn't know exactly what to do. For a long time, I didn't know exactly what I was feeling. Never felt this way before so... I thought I was -- nuts."

"You're not nuts. You're great!"

"You're pretty spiffy yourself, Chief," Jim said.

He laughed happily. "So what are we going to do about it?"

"Do?" Jim asked innocently.

"Yeah, man. Do," he repeated, pulling back far enough to make a familiar hand gesture that had Jim rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"Now?"

"No time like the present."

Jim gave him a smug grin before he said, "I thought you'd never ask!" Then Jim kissed him.

He melted into the kiss, letting Jim's strong arms hold him and keep him from tumbling from the bed. Jim didn't disappoint. His kisses were arousing and firm, sweet and demanding, and so wonderful. Before he knew what was happening, they were lying on his bed, Jim stretched out on top of him, their mouths dancing against each other while their cocks met through layers of flannel. Neither man had much experience with men, so their lovemaking was clumsy. They undressed each other, poking each other with their cocks, and banging noses, only to laugh and return to kissing over and over. Naked, they rolled until they went too far and fell to the floor with a hard thump, Jim ending up on the bottom with him sprawled on top.

They paused before they burst out laughing, only to return to kissing again. When erections began to practically hurt from the need to be attended to, they laughingly decided on trying to give each other oral sex, which lead to more laughing, some teeth on sensitive parts, a few grunts and cries about being careful, before somehow they managed to bring each other off, one after the other, amid cries of pleasure.

After their first clumsy session, Jim lead him into the bathroom, where they showered together, kissing again, hands everywhere, before ending up in the kitchen, brewing coffee and giving each other looks ranging from shock at what they had just done, to lustful when they thought about doing it again. They spent long minutes just staring at each other, giggling, blushing and otherwise enjoying themselves. Cups in hand, they decided to leave the messy bed in what immediately became the spare room and made their way up to what Jim now called "our bed". He thought he would cry with happiness.

Jim managed to spill his coffee as he walked across the room. In spite of the Ellison household rules, they decided to clean up the mess in the morning. He offered to share his coffee with Jim, and after they exchanged sips, they finally burrowed under the covers to fall asleep in each other’s arms, sated and exhausted, and so very happy...

Blair felt so warm and so relaxed as he stretched, his eyes closed. His left hand brushed against something... His eyes flew open, and he ever so slowly turned his head to see his hand touching -- brown hair. The face was turned away with only the top of a head peering out from the blankets, but there was no mistaking that hair.

"Shit!" Blair cried out, tossing back the covers. He saw his naked body and instantly, he panicked. "Shit!" he cried again, leaping from the bed and racing to the top of the stairs.

Jim's eyes flew open. He quickly sat up, his eyes searching the room. When his partner's gaze finally fell on him, he blanched. He'd hoped to make good his escape before Jim saw him. A hot wave of dread rushed up his body, and he felt as if he was going to faint.

"Jim! Oh, God. I'm so sorry! Really..." he stammered. "It was those fucking dreams! Night after night! I'm sorry!"

Jim looked confused. Blair took advantage of his partner's momentary puzzlement to run. And he ran as fast as he could, down the stairs and into his room, slamming the door behind him.

"What have I done!" he cried as he leaned against the closed door and pounded his fists against his thighs. Blair paused, looking down at his naked condition. "Shit!" Rushing over to the dresser, he yanked out the first pair of jeans he found.

"Blair?" Jim called, knocking. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry! It's all my fault! Please, Jim... Don't be pissed!" Blair yanked on the jeans before pulling a sweatshirt over his head. "I'll make it up to you!"

"What? Now you're sorry?" Jim's voice was tight with irritation.

Blair cringed. Damn it anyway. Jim sounded so angry! How could he do what he did? He'd gone too far. Dreams were one thing, but actually acting on them? He must be crazy! Jim would hate him now. He'd made it very clear that he valued Blair as a friend and partner, but he'd said nothing about this! Whatever this was. Had he touched Jim? God, he was in major trouble now. What should he do? Leave. He had to leave.

Blair yanked out his duffel and started stuffing anything into the bag that he touched when he realized that he was such a jerk! He began to pace again, mentally deriding his stupidity when he realized that he didn't hear Jim any longer. Worried that he'd made Jim so angry that he'd stormed out of the loft, Blair slowly opened the door and looked around. He saw his partner sitting silently on the sofa, his back to him. Blair walked across the room quietly, intent on explaining himself and begging for forgiveness before he said he would leave, rather than ever bother his partner again. When he skirted the sofa and glanced into Jim's face, he was surprised to see the look of utter desolation pasted on his face. His eyes were closed and his mouth tightly pursed. His friend's jaw muscle jumped dangerously fast.

"Jim?" he said softly. "I'm so-"

"Don't," Jim growled. "I should have known better."

"It was the dreams... For months... For years now, all I've done is dream about you. Night after night. Sometimes, even when I was meditating. All sorts of dreams and -- visions."

Jim slowly looked up. "What? What dreams? I mean... I know sometimes you've had bad dreams..." He shrugged.

Blair huffed out a shaky breath and moved closer, sitting on the coffee table. When he reached out to touch Jim's leg, Jim jerked it out of his reach. He pulled his hand back. "I understand. You don't want me to touch you."

"Last night..."

Running a hand through his messy hair, he sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

Very softly, Jim said, "You regret what we -- did."

Blair's head came up and his gaze searched Jim's face. Jim's tone, his demeanor, he was acting like... he was more hurt than angry. "We did?" he echoed dumbly. "We?"

"I thought... I know I meant everything I said, but you're having regrets. Second thoughts? In the light of day, you're sorry-"

"Regrets? Wait... wait. Did we...? You and I...? It really happened?"

Jim looked puzzled when he asked, "What did you think happened?"

"I was sleep walking again. I came upstairs and climbed in your bed. I dreamed about you and me -- making love, and I had a, you know," he mumbled, "orgasm... in your bed," he finally admitted, blushing furiously. "I'll wash the sheets. No. No. I'll buy you new ones."

Jim rose. "Shut up, you idiot."

Blair's eyes widened, but he didn't protest when Jim reached out to drag him upright. Whatever his friend did to him, he deserved. Bracing himself for Jim's quiet fury, he closed his eyes. Not that he was worried Jim would ever hit him, but he could get pretty damned pissed- He jumped back when Jim's lips touched his.

"Jim?"

"Sandburg... Blair, you are such a dork. You didn't dream that we made love last night. You weren't sleepwalking. We did make love last night. And we had a rousing time of it. God, you are so damned thick sometimes!" Jim actually smiled and before Blair could respond, their mouths were fused together.

Blair stiffened for a quick second before a grin broke over his face and he began to laugh.

Jim pulled back and gave him a look of pure exasperation. "How in the hell can I kiss you if you're going to laugh like a damned hyena?" he growled before clamping a hand behind his head and capturing his mouth yet again. This time, Blair was smart enough to let Jim kiss him.

\--------------------------------

They lay in Jim's bed, the sheet covering their cooling bodies. Smiling, Blair sighed contentedly, and he turned to lay his head on Jim's shoulder. his lover's gentle hand caressed his back in slow, lazy strokes, making him purr and stretch out, encouraging the loving touch to continue.

"The dreams I understand," Jim said. "Hell, I had my share of them about you over the years, but the other stuff... The blue dreams and the animal spirits... Those are things I saw also. How could that happen?"

"You never wanted to talk about what happened when I drowned, but it isn't every day that two spirits merge. I knew it had to mean something but when you ignored it, I felt so awful."

"Hey, I'm sorry. I was scared," Jim admitted softly. "It was -- is so damned strange!"

Blair raised his head and kissed Jim lightly. "I know. I was scared too."

"I would never hurt you," Jim insisted. "I had the same -- dream. The wolf and the hunter, but it wasn't me!"

"You have to understand, Jim, it was a metaphor, symbolic. I did die, but you brought me back."

"But it was my fault."

Blair didn't dispute Jim, knowing how deeply his lover felt about his part in the entire mess that surrounded "that other Sentinel". He knew Jim would always carry that guilt. But he was determined to at least assuage some of it. "And you fixed it. Thank you." He smiled at Jim before he returned to snuggle next to his lover. "None of that matters now. We're together."

"If you're sure about the academy-"

"I'm sure."

"We'll have to tell Simon about us."

Blair considered that for a moment. "Yeah. He deserves to know. But he also needs to know that we're partners."

Jim tangled his fingers with Blair's. "No question. A Sentinel needs his Guide."

"And a Guide needs his Sentinel."

They both laughed. Then Jim asked, "What other dreams did you have?"

"Oh, let's see. Once you fought a duel for me. And then you were a rent boy that I paid for hot, heavy sex." Jim laughed deeply, jiggling the bed. "And once... I was pregnant. With your baby. You called me sweetheart." Jim started laughing so hard that Blair had to move away. "It's not that funny," he groused, pouting.

With tears running down his face, Jim rubbed his eyes. "God... There has to be a book in there somewhere," he chortled.

Blair gave a shudder and looked seriously at Jim when he said, "Jim, man, if you want a book, you're going to have to go to the library. Been there, done that, have the scars. No book."

Jim snickered. "You have to admit. That book was pretty good."

Blair raised himself up on his elbow. "And how would you know that? You only read that introductory chapter." After a pause, he asked, "Didn't you?"

With a grin, Jim rose and went to his dresser. He opened a drawer and turned, holding out a small black, leather-bound book. "This is for you."

"What is it?" Blair asked excitedly, taking the item in his hand. He looked down at the silver letters stamped in the cover. 'The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg'. Feeling his eyes mist over, he opened the book and scanned through it quickly, He looked up into Jim's smiling face. "My research! How? I deleted all of that from my laptop, and I burned the manuscript in the fireplace."

Jim shrugged and climbed onto the bed. "Had that idiot publisher send me a copy after I made him swear he'd delete the one Naomi had sent him on pain of a huge lawsuit. Which I think you should seriously consider, by the way. White's Print Shop does this sort of thing, and I figured after all your hard work..." He smiled, looking pleased with himself.

Blair threw his arms around Jim's neck. "Thank you."

Jim patted his back. "Wanted you to have it."

With a shaky smile, Blair swallowed hard and whispered, "This is so great."

"I feel bad nobody else will ever see it."

"I'll see it. This makes it all real."

"Then I'm glad I did it. I wasn't sure. For a while there, I wasn't sure about anything. But now..." Jim smiled. "Now things are good."

Blair nodded and after clearing his throat, he said, "Now shut up and kiss me."

"Like in your dreams?" Jim asked teasingly, adding, "sweetheart."

Blair laughed and answered, "Definitely. My real dream lover."

The End

**Author's Note:**

> This novel covers everything: drama, humor, angst, love, violence, and even a touch of BDSM. Everything including the kitchen sink. It covers all sixty-five episodes and every character from the series makes an appearance in one chapter or another. Published in 2009.


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